EXPIRED
by Demonic Muffin
Summary: When Javert catches a young woman trying to mug him, and he decides to employ her instead of sending her to prison, what could possibly go wrong? First fanfiction, bad at summaries. Warning: AU and some OOC Javert, also bloody.
1. The Beginning

Chapter 1

Javert was a rigid man. He lived by harsh and strict rules, both of the law and of moral standards, and he never once strayed from these rules. The creatures of the night, the gamin and the whores littering the street, they all disgusted him, for they did not abide by any rules. They stole and murdered and spread their filth like a disease-infested rat. Javert would rather be a dead man than be forced to associate with these kinds of people, these people that did not understand, or did not care, about the Law.

He walked the cobblestone street with a confident, almost proud stride. He had nothing to fear. He owned these streets. He could go down the darkest alley and feel completely safe, though he never faltered in staying alert. His pale eyes glimmered with an almost-need to find someone guilty of a crime.

He took a moment to gaze to the left of him, at the dark, swirling waters of the Seine. The glassy river mirrored the night sky and he could see without having to lift his head the multitude of stars. Never changing shape or position, the only thing in the world that followed by his rules other than himself, they sparkled with a fierce brightness, lighting his way. He smiled then, without realizing. He also didn't realize he had just been mugged.

* * *

I don't think I could run any harder. What in God's name did I just do? I thought he was just a passer-by – for me to have actually stolen from infamous Inspector Javert from the Paris Police, I am either very brave or, much more likely, very stupid. If I make it out of here alive, I might be hailed by the lads, but if I go to see them right now I will be slaughtered. And the fact that I'll be leading the inspector to the hang-out is probably a pretty dumb idea too.

I shook my head, and continued to run, until I saw my chance. I twisted my ankle and whipped into the alleyway. I heard the footfalls grow in volume, then recede. I sighed in relief, and closed my eyes until my heart calmed.

I took a few long breaths, until felt like I could open my eyes once more.

And gazed straight into the glare of two beautiful eyes squinted beneath thick eyebrows. A very angry expression was what I saw on the face of Inspector Javert. Okay, that's a major understatement. He was livid.

His arms grasped the protruding bricks of the building on either side of me. I was stuck, my back forced against the cold stone as he leaned forward uncomfortably close.

"What, exactly, did you think you would achieve," said the man, "by stealing from _me_?"

"To be fair," I replied hesitantly, after gathering up courage to speak to the man I had learned to fear, "I had absolutely no idea it was you until I already committed the deed, monsieur."

"You are to call me by Inspector, wench," he spat. He _really_ has a complex, I swear. His bright white teeth glinted in the moonlight as he bared them like a wolf defending his kill. "Give me back what you stole, and I will not have to resort to force to bring you to the prison."

By heart filled with fear at this mention. If I went to prison, I would surely die, just like Papa. I tried to reason with the inspector.

"Listen, sir – inspector, I mean, please… I didn't want to steal, I swear, but the children that live near where I do are starving, and their mother is very ill, and although she will likely make it, because my brother is taking care of her, there is no way to get any money. I thought, if just this once –"

"You insolent girl!" He gripped my arms tightly. I could feel his fingers digging in my flesh and I knew I would be bruised tomorrow. " You committed a crime, and you honestly believed it would go without punishment? In what world do you live in? In the real world, we are under the Law, and must follow it, lest we falter and suffer the consequences."

"But, inspector, I beg you! I will pay you back, I promise. Somehow! Just let me buy bread for the family. Let them eat." My eyes began to sting, and I looked at my feet, somehow ashamed at the fact I was crying in front of this man. I was shocked when I felt his grip lessen. I looked up, and though his face was still hard, it certainly wasn't the glare of death I was being treated to just moments ago. Could it be that the Heartless Inspector has a heart?

Nonsense.

"Your offer intrigues me," he said. He seemed to be pondering deeply my words and it unnerved me. It seemed to him as well that what he was thinking was quite foreign and almost scary. But he continued nonetheless, as though entranced by his own thoughts, and needing to speak them aloud, make them concrete, so he knows he is not dreaming. This decision is something he would never make otherwise, but something in the night seemed to have affected him, though for better or for worse…

…but that was a thought too frightening to dwell upon.

"I will agree to this," he finally said, and scowled slightly at my wide eyes. "You may buy this bread, only for this family, and only this time. But you will pay me back, with your body."

I flushed deeply. "Excuse me?!"

His scowl darkened. "Don't imagine such vile things, woman. I mean you will work for me. You will be my spy, and you will become my subordinate officer as well. It will be nothing to you to put yourself at risk for me and the police. You will report to my office first thing in the morning; I will get you cleaned and dressed into a proper uniform. You will listen to everything I say and do everything I tell you, without questioning me. Who knows; perhaps this might work for my benefit after all."

"And how long," I murmured shakily, "will this go on for?"

And that was when I found out that something I feared perhaps even more so than Javert's scowl was his smile.


	2. Bread and Candy

Chapter 2

I went home with my bag of bread. Javert had given me extra money, though he must have made a mistake, and I had enough for some hard candies for the children. I bought them without thinking, and when I turned to him, and realized my mistake, I tried to apologize, but he waved his gloved hand at me with mild annoyance.

"It doesn't matter," he said simply. He looked ahead with that same stony glare, but when he dared to glance at me, and saw the smile on my face, he scowled. "This doesn't mean a thing," he cried sharply. "You'll just have to work that extra off, as well." He turned away when he saw the smile vanish.

And then he left, without another word. I figured out that any conversation with the inspector is over when he says it is so. Not that I had any qualms with that; I was without words. My anger had dissipated, and perhaps the fear, as well. He was just another man to me. I was sure that the fear would gladly return once I became his possession.

And so here I was with my package, skipping over the small pools of water that had gathered between the stones from the early evening rain. The air was still damp, and my long dark hair felt frizzed from the moisture. I hoped that Brother had remembered to fill the pails at the fountain so we would have water for the baths. Even though Javert said that he would get me cleaned the next morning, I felt that my usual dirty self was _too _grimy for his world. Tonight wasn't an issue because, for one, I was being treated as a criminal, and two, the darkness of the night shadowed my filth-encrusted body. Though he might have to wash those gloves once he returned home, and saw them in the light.

Thinking over it, I decided the inspector would probably throw them out, instead.

I knocked tentatively on the door of the Petulengros, and the oldest son, Loiza, answered it. His sullen and fearful face transformed into a grin when he saw me, and, upon viewing the paper bag, shouted happily, "Mamă! Tsura este aici, şi ea a adus cadourile!"

I smiled warmly as I entered, to the frail woman in the bed. The house was a single large room and a small bathroom in the back; it used to be rented to only my brother and me, but we made an agreement with Madame Florica, after we found her and her family out, confused and alone, on the street, to let them into our home, and the landlord was kind enough to make us only have to pay one person extra – she didn't count the children. They came from Hungary, part of the Lovara Rom, and were not familiar with France. They were treated with more ferocious detestation than in their home, and Florica was weak to begin with. Her four children had been taking care of her, but we couldn't let them starve on the street, and we knew that that would be the result if we let them alone.

Aishe, Jaelle, and Walther greeted me excitedly, crying, "Sora!" and "Vere!"

"Say something in French, Tsura!" they cried.

I smiled. "Je t'aime tous beaucoup, et vous êtes tous très belles!"

They squealed and giggled and tried to repeat what I said. They didn't bother to ask what it meant. They just loved the sounds of my native tongue.

"Tsura,"said a strong and deep voice behind me, and I knew it was my brother. I smiled as he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close. "How are you?" I felt movement, and realized he saw the bag I had twisted away from his gaze. His voice resounded close to my ear, slightly harsher, as it always becomes when he is suspicious, "What is in the bag?"

"Bread," I replied. "And candy."

The children cheered, and I saw Madame's face soften, knowing that her children would be alright. Mircea let go of me, and placed his large hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. "Where," he started slowly, "did you get the money, Tsura?"

I leaned back, and whispered into his ear, "Inspector Javert."

I saw his dark eyes grow wide, and he placed the bag on the table and pulled me outside. The street was deserted, so there wasn't a reason for him to whisper. Since he did so anyway, I knew I was in trouble.

"Javert?! Are you mad, girl? Do you understand what that man does to people like us?"

I stared at him, my eyes welling up with tears. He had been the one to arrest our father.

"He didn't know that Papa was innocent—" I tried. I stopped when I realized I was defending the man I had hated and feared all my life. Also, I knew it was against our rules to speak of the dead. After Papa was arrested, we burned his clothes, and refused to eat his favourite foods.

"It doesn't matter! They didn't give him fair trial. They never give our kind fair trials." My brother glowered at me. "Javert has only his duty to the law. He would arrest his mother if she stole. By the way, did you know that he is _Mānuš_ too?"

"A gypsy?" I didn't understand why I did not see it. Even though we were both under the cover of darkness, I should have been able to tell my own kind. The only thing I really saw was his startling eyes, a pale grey-green, quite unusual for a gypsy. I wondered if his father might be _Gadjé_.

"You cannot associate with this man anymore, Tsura. He's very dangerous," Mircea looked at me cautiously as he said this. "You didn't _do_ anything, did you?"

"Um, well," I stammered. I knew it was pointless to lie, so I managed to stumble out, "I might have stolen the money from him and now I have to pay him back by being his subordinate and I have to go see him tomorrow morning and I don't know when I'm coming back please don't be mad."

All that registered on my brother's face for a few moments was slight confusion, mild shock, and complete dumbfoundedness, until he gathered himself and hissed, "_What_?!" I could tell it took him every ounce of strength not to strangle me right then and there.

"Sorry."

"You _stole_ from the most _feared_ and _hated_ police officer in _all_ of Paris, perhaps all of _France_, and all you have to say is '_sorry'_?!"

"Yeah, okay, geez, don't make it such a big deal…"

"A big –!" He glared at me with wild eyes. "Are you completely insane?!"

"Listen, I'll work it off, don't worry about it."

"I have no doubt you'll work it off," he said, "but I'm far from trusting that man, and as long as you're vulnerable to him I'll be watching."

I made a face. "Don't be creepy," I said, "he isn't going to try anything funny. That man has so many rules to follow I'm surprised he hasn't physically snapped in half from all the stress."

Mircea sighed in exasperation. "This is going nowhere," he muttered. "You make sure you're careful, and you come back home whenever it's possible, and you tell me everything."

"Fine."

"I mean it." His eyes were burning. It was the angriest I had ever seen him, even more so than at Papa's funeral.

"_Fine_! Let me bathe and get some new clothes on and find that pair of black slippers I found on the street a few weeks ago." I left him there. He wouldn't move, and I wavered at the doorway a moment before sighing myself and going in.

I stepped in the large metal trough without any feeling of comfort I suspected a bath should have. The bath itself was cold and unpleasant, and I absentmindedly took the rag and scratched at my skin until it reddened as I thought of the possible events of the next day. I wondered if I would be walking into a trap, and really be sent to prison. I wondered that if he kept his word, what terrible and dangerous predicaments he would force me in for his own amusement. I combed my fingers through my hair, wincing at the dozens of knots tied up in the thick, greasy mane. I dunked my head in the water a few times and pretended like it was actually getting cleaner. Why did I feel a need to impress these upper-class people? They would regard me as scum anyway. I looked over at my dress folded neatly on the old wooden chair. My best dress, that I'm sure wouldn't pass for rags in a home of the bourgeoisie. At least there weren't any holes or tears in it, like my other dresses and skirts. The bodice was corset too! The only thing Papa ever bought me – I cherished it. I winced at the memory. I knew that we weren't supposed to speak of the dead, but I couldn't help thinking of my father. I really felt ridiculous, but it had only been a year and a half since one of the prison men, after being released, told us the news. He had become well acquainted with my father, and said he was popular amongst the less homicidal of the men in the prison, and when he became ill with fever and died they all felt the pain. They held a day of silence for him, knowing they couldn't do anything else. The body was never returned to us, and what I always describe as "the funeral" was just the day his clothes and books were burnt.

I glanced at my sack.

Well, all except one. He had a poetry book that I had been especially fond of since my youth, and had slipped it under my shirt before the box was thrown into the fire.

I sighed and relaxed into the water, but finding it quite close to freezing, quickly jumped out. I found the one clean towel left lying around and dried myself, and put on my dress, not without difficulty. I wasn't used to the corset-type bodice, and I realized how hard it was to breathe than normal. I loosened it somewhat, and found that there are even more disadvantages to being a woman than I had previously anticipated. I had no nightshirt, so sleeping in the dress and praying it wouldn't wrinkle too badly was all I could do. Maybe if I slept sitting up… well, it would do much better than that dirt ditch I had found myself having to lie in for a few days after stealing from a rather wealthy noble, and had made sure to keep low for a while until there was another crime committed and they forgot about my petty theft.

I sighed, and gazed out the window. A light, warm, soft rain had started to fall, and from a small distance, I could hear a familiar song coming from the Opera Hall, some type of symphony or concerto, the notes shimmering through the rain and gliding with ease, enveloping me with a strange joy and comfort. I always adored orchestral music; brother said it was for the upper-class, and found it too uptight and formal, and preferred our type of music, the music of our people, over this. But for some reason, I didn't. I felt that there was such soul in these pieces, especially the oboe and violin concertos. There was one, a piano concerto written by a man named Beethoven, and it had been the first piece of music that made me cry.

"Why are you crying?" I remember my father had asked me and he held me in his arms. We were walking in the streets and stopped in front of the Opera House.

"Why is she so sad?" I had asked him.

"Who?"

"The singing lady," I had said, pointing to the building, where the music was emanating from. "She sounds like she's crying, so I'm crying too. Is that like how Mama sounded when she sang?"

He looked at me then, with such an indescribable expression of sadness. I felt so foolish, and never spoke about my mother to him again if I could help it. When I tried talking to my brother, he explained to me that Mānuš do not speak of the dead. He wouldn't go into further detail, and I suspect it was because he didn't understand it himself. He had been told the same thing, and just accepted the custom.

I sighed, and hummed along to the last few strings. I sighed again as it ended, contentedly. I turned around, and set myself on the chair, laying my head over my folded arms that I rested on the table. I felt my spine crack pleasurably as it curved. I gave one last shuddering sigh, and closed my eyes.

So far into dreamland was I that I barely noticed when the thick, heavy, warm weight of my brother's wool coat was slung over my shoulders.


	3. First Day

Chapter 3

The next morning was a flurry on excitement and anticipation. I couldn't find the black slippers, and it took me a good half hour to locate them. Jaelle had tried them on, pretending she was a princess, and forgot to give them back. I barely got them on before I was at the door.

"Wait! Take some bread with you!" managed Florica. I thanked her and took the smallest round loaf. I hurried out the door, trying not to trip over my own feet and I shoved the bread in my mouth, my taste buds thanking the Lord as I gulped each half-chewed bite down with relish.

I made it to the prison with seconds to spare. I entered in gingerly, afraid of this unfamiliar territory. No one seemed to be in, so I called out.

A familiar voice was my answer. "You're here, finally."

I whipped around and saw the face of Inspector Javert quite close to my own. Oh, yes, I see the gypsy in him now. His eyes were so unnatural, though, in comparison with such richly coloured skin. But I did not find those eyes unpleasant, even though they looked at though they could literally shoot daggers into me at a moment's glance.

"I ran," was all I could reply.

"You should have woken up earlier," was his rebuttal. He suddenly grabbed my jaw, and twisted my face from side to side. "Why are you scratched?"

The question took me by surprise, so I could only answer truthfully, "I didn't think that my usual dirty self would be up to the standards of this place." I was especially vague on how I said 'this place', but he understood perfectly, and let go of me quickly and fiercely.

"It didn't help you any," he said curtly. "I said I was going to get you cleaned, didn't I? Why did you bother?"

"I didn't…" I trailed off, feeling very embarrassed. I tugged at the skirt of my dress, and looked down at my feet.

"Well, no use wasting time arguing about this. Come with me, I'll show you to my quarters, and you'll get cleaned – properly, this time – and dressed into the uniform I will supply you."

"Wait, what?! A uniform? You said I just had to be your spy. I'm okay with that, if only for my own survival. And I can do other miscellaneous deeds, but a uniform? What if my friends catch me?"

"Do you want to be thrown in jail?" he glared at me purposefully. "I would never do this in normal situations. Frankly, I feel as though I've been possessed, so I dare you to spit on my courtesy and consideration and see how far it takes you." He gave me another stony stare before adding, "I am only doing this because I know that you will listen to me. You risk putting your family in danger otherwise."

"Are you blackmailing me?" I was incredulous.

"On the contrary, I am telling you information otherwise confidential. The gypsies are becoming rowdy, and if I had been any other police officer your family and the family that you stole for would be put in the darkest, coldest cell for the remainder of your days."

"Is it because you're one of us that you're doing this? Do you feel compassion –"

"_Stop_." I never thought a look, even one coming from Inspector Javert, could be so chilling. My body numbed as I stared back into the icy depths of his irises. I was transfixed, but my muscles twitched and shivered. I understood right then the dangerous ground I had just tripped on, and thought that it wouldn't be so foolish if I was to fear for my life. "You will never speak that way to me." His voice almost quivered with rage, and another emotion I just couldn't put a name to. "Never, ever speak of where I came from. You have no idea who I am. Do not believe for one second that just because we wear the same skin that you know everything about me and understand my soul completely. You never can, and never will."

His words bore a strange wound in me, by how he said them. They were hurtful words to begin with, but the quiet anger and untitled feelings he spoke them with and the fact he never broke away from my gaze alarmed me.

"Inspector, I…" I stopped, and looked down, before meeting his eyes again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I am just as clueless to why you have not locked me up, perhaps more so, than you are."

His gaze did not soften this time. He turned away, and before he left me alone in his quarters, said quietly but sharply, "Clean yourself, and attempt to make yourself look at least somewhat presentable. You will never speak to me so freely again."

I felt sympathy for him, however, when his back was no longer visible and the clicking of his boots receded down the hall. I wondered why he acted so ferociously to the mention of his heritage.

When I stepped into the bath, all those muddled thoughts slipped out of my mind and the only thing I focused on was how deliciously warm the water was and how he had an actual bar of soap. I was in heaven for a good twenty minutes, before realizing there was a point to this, and getting dressed into the uniform he had folded in an almost meticulous manner on the chair.

The uniform was likely expected to be drab, but to my eyes it was a remarkable piece. I picked it up, and pretended that I was a newly-hired boy, straight out of school, and apprehensive about meeting up with my new superior officer. I tied my hair up messily and found his office after a few moments of exploration and searching. He seemed to be the only one on duty, so I was not caught in the halls and questioned. _Good_, I thought, _because I would have no clue what to say._

I stepped to the door of his office, but I hesitated. Before I could knock the door, however, he startled me with a sharp "enter" from the other side of it.

I entered slowly to his command, and saw him sitting behind his desk, rigid as when he stands. I wondered how stiff his muscles must be. To have such rigidity in both soul and manner is unnerving, to say the least.

"Monsieur Inspector, I—"

"Apologizing is meaningless. I understand that you don't know any better, or at least that was the case before I told you otherwise." He was barely paying attention to me now, writing down something, likely important, with a falcon quill. "I assume you will not make another such mistake?" He paused to look at me, his eyebrows raised. It took me a moment to realize the question wasn't rhetorical.

"Oh, of course. I won't ever do it again, Inspector, I—"

"See that you don't." What was with him and cutting me off so bluntly?! He paused with whatever he was writing to look up at me again. He seemed almost pleased with how the uniform fit, until he reached my head and –

"What the _hell_ did you do to your hair?" What, so he had to cut off my inner monologue too? What was this guy's problem?

"What? I thought I'd fashion it like yours, make it less inconvenient and bothersome."

"For the love of God." He placed his quill down and got up, taking a brush from inside one of his desk drawers before coming up behind me. He undid the ribbon, and handed it to me. "Are you really this incompetent?" he asked, before brushing my hair.

I gasped. I haven't had my hair brushed by another person – or really at all – since I was a little girl. It felt strangely… very, very good. This must be another one of his complexes, because he's treating me gently now, running his hand down my hair, following the brush's strokes. Hard enough to get the knots out, but not so hard as to cause me physical pain. I didn't understand why he had suddenly changed attitudes. Maybe he was paternal. He took the ribbon from me, and I was surprised how gently he plucked it from my hand. He tied my hair taught, gave the ends one last brush, and set me in front of the mirror.

"I look…" I trailed off, and brought a hand up to my face. My flesh was clean! I looked clean! Javert looked at me, in his eyes an indiscernible mix of emotion. Something along the lines of disgust and contempt, I imagine.

"You'll have to get used to it, I'm afraid." I turned around to face him. He really is a terrible judge of character sometimes.

"You don't understand," I said softly. "I'm happy." I turned back to face myself. Softly, I added, "I look almost beautiful."

This time Javert actually did look surprised, especially when I felt and admired my hair. He coughed, and looked away. "You really are a strange person. Stealing at one moment, acting almost normal at the next."

I scowled up at him. "I wouldn't do such a thing on purpose. You know, you really have the wrong idea about who I am. Just because I stole doesn't make me a bad person. The world isn't black and white."

It looked as though I had just punched him. He quickly regained composure, but his eyes were wild. "Once a thief, always a thief. You are not a kind-hearted person, you are a wretched girl from the streets. I am surprised you are not a prostitute." He really knew how to put people down. I blinked back tears. I wasn't used to being insulted; I had been more or less hidden away from this world, and although I was aware of it, I never experienced it on a normal basis.

"You do understand," I said harshly, "That I am an actual human being, with feelings?"

"It would surprise me."

"You are a heartless bastard."

"And you are a vagabond. I'm glad we are in agreement."

"About _what_?"

Before I could come up with an answer as to what in all hells we were "agreeing" about, someone knocked at the door.


	4. Stiff Introductions

Chapter 4

The subordinate officer entered, with a tentative, "Inspector?" He seemed quite surprised at my being there, and I wondered if Javert had mentioned me whatsoever, let alone discussed me to his superiors.

"Yes?" Javert, whether acting or not, sounded quite annoyed at having been intruded – he seems to take a secret joy in arguing. "Well? What do you want?" A silent, nervous glance from the young man, before he was startled by Javert saying sharply, "Out with it, boy!"

"Monsieur Inspector, the Commandant would like to talk to you." The boy looked at me. "Bring her as well."

"Very well," replied Javert curtly. "Move aside."

We passed the boy too slowly for my tastes. I could see the displeasure in his eyes, even if he stood upright and respectful as the Inspector passed him by. I realized that it wasn't the Inspector the boy disliked – it was me.

"Enter," said a voice from behind the door. Javert opened it without hesitation and ushered me in roughly, but without losing any of his composure. The man really has a way of making himself look like Justice itself. The Commandant looked at the two of us without batting an eye. How many times, exactly, did the Inspector bring in new kids off the street? Is that why the snob-nosed kid looked so peeved, because he isn't Javert's favourite anymore?

Well he didn't have to worry. The way Javert was manhandling me I could tell I wasn't his most preferred either.

"Monsieur Commandant, why is it that we were called down here, if I may be so bold as to ask?" I gaped at him. Wasn't he a subordinate to this guy? Speaking so openly – just who is this man?

"I'll overlook that boldness, Javert. I called you down here because I would like to know what business she has here," pointing to me, "and in that," motioning to my uniform.

"I need someone other than myself who knows the streets of this city, but most importantly, someone whose face won't be recognized as mine is."

"I understand," started the Commandant slowly, looking as though he was pondering deeply as he looked me over. His intense stare was beginning to make me uncomfortable. "However, you could have asked Luc or Jean-Richard. They are knowledgeable about the streets as well."

"They are too young," replied Javert matter-of-factly. I wondered if the boy that called us down was one of the two mentioned, and if so, which one he was.

"She is young as well," said the superior officer.

"She is hardened – those boys have not seen the things they will when they are older, the things they have to see, and I believe that they are too sensitive mentally, and will not be able to handle it." He took a sidelong glance to me before adding, "Especially on a daily basis." His jaw tightened as he looked at his commanding officer. "Besides," he said, "she knows the street in a criminal's perspective, which will prove quite useful."

The Commandant raised his eyebrow as he switched his gaze from the ridiculously out-spoken Javert to me. I was ready to strangle the Inspector.

"I have lived my life on the street – I know the ins and outs of every corner." I glared at Javert as I added, "I do not know if that gives me the eyes of a criminal, but as long as I am useful, it is fine with me."

Javert looked down at me, and I couldn't tell what his eyes were saying, so I looked back to the Commandant.

The superior officer sighed, exasperated. "Fine, Javert, do what you want. You are the most useful man on this team, as much as it begrudges me to admit it. Besides, you have the authority to hire new candidates. Just see to it this one stays out of trouble."

"I thank you, sir. Will that be all?"

"Yes. Go, both of you. And you," he murmured, staring me down with suddenly frigid eyes, "be careful."

"I'll make sure she's on her best behaviour," said Javert, and I was surprised at the black undertone that was laced in his deep voice. We left quickly, and Javert brought me outside.

"I really wish that man would keep his prejudices to himself," said Javert darkly.

I didn't have to ask what he meant. I felt bad that Javert had to suffer that – I could understand why he hated me, even if the reasons were warped in logic. But Javert had never done anything wrong, at least in the eyes of the Law.

"I am sorry that you have to have that kind of person as your superior officer."

Javert looked down at me, his eyebrows raised. I kept his gaze for a while, but he turned away and fixed his hat. "Yes, well, such things are to be expected," he replied curtly, and began walking. I had to jog to catch up – that man has long legs!

I skipped over to his side. I couldn't suppress the strange smile I felt all of a sudden I needed to show. Javert looked down at me, and raised his thick eyebrow again. "What are you smiling about?"

"I don't know," I said, a joy welling inside me. I think it was the fact no one looked at me with disgust as I walked down the street. "This uniform does strange things, doesn't it?"

Javert's eyes widened only a fraction. He turned his head from me and kept looking forward. "If you say so," he muttered.

I grinned back at him. The air was fresh, and the smell of bread wafting in the air made feel comforted. I could not feel bad today.


	5. Flame

Chapter 5

We returned later on that day to his office after a day patrol – I found out Javert does one evening patrol every night but takes over for the afternoon patrollers every once in a while. Seems the other men are not as faithful and devoted to their work as he is.

"Sir, what are we to do now?" I asked as we entered his office.

"We are to do paperwork. This job is not about adventure every single day. Moreover, since you will be my subordinate for long term, I expect you to do everything required of an officer of your position. That includes paperwork."

"I get it."

"Do you, now?"

"Yes," I emphasized, grabbing the quill and a stack of papers, "I do."

We continued in silence. The papers were a torture after the first hour, and close to impossible to pay attention to by the third. Still I kept at it, for whenever I would stray, I felt the Inspector's hard eyes burn holes in my neck. I sighed when I checked his pocket-watch, which he had left on the bureau. It did not help when a cold gust of wind blew half of my stack of papers to the floor. I hurriedly scrambled to pick them up – luckily they did not blow too far away from each other and I was able to quickly bring the sheets back to their proper order. I slammed the window shut and looked at Javert with wild eyes.

"What. The. Hell."

He raised an eyebrow. "I left the window open to air out my office. The air was becoming stale."

I glared at him. "It is freezing, I pray you do realize."

He glared back. "Then start the fire."

I huffed. "I don't want to do anything potentially damaging to your workplace, sir."

He sighed. "That is a rational enough reason to give, so I'll do it." I muttered "thank you" as he rose, but I could not tell if he heard me, as he made no acknowledgement.

He opened the oven door that was behind the bureau and began adding wood, tapping it with the poker, then prodding at the embers to get the flames started once again. He did not notice the sparks that flew out and landed in the wastebasket. He did, however, notice the small fire that had started.

Suddenly I saw the man's eyes widen, his lips tightening to the ends of his jaw. In a flash, he was leaping up, slamming the stove and running to the basket all at once. He took a moment to stare, as if in disbelief, and then scrambled around for something to find to put out the fire. He took a large rag that was hanging on the coat rack, and in dashing back to the basket he tripped and let go of it. He regained his balance and grabbed the cloth, and threw it with a vigorous force into the bin, making sounds in the back of his throat when the flames licked menacingly at the sides and wincing when he felt the heat. He went to the table in the corner and got the cold coffee. He returned and upended it with an odd, tight expression, watching intently as steam rose from the now wet wastepaper basket.

I watched all this in stunned silence. I had never seen Javert act out, and other than his limited range of negative emotions, I had never seen anything more than a crooked, sarcastic half-smile or eyebrow raise from him. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with effort. He looked at me suddenly, his eyes bright and wide, and his mouth drawn taught.

"So, um, sir…" I trailed off, unknowing of what to say. I was drawing a blank, but I knew I had to speak.

"Is it strange that I dislike fire?" Why did this bothersome man always have to make a sarcastic comment? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? "Oh? Are you attempting to console me?"

I shot him a dark look. I was surprised when I got a reaction – a twitch of his eye. That fire really must have perturbed him.

"You know, when I was a kid I was afraid of thunder. I grew out of it, luckily, but all the same. It isn't something to be ashamed of." I got up, and put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped from the touch, but I rested my hand down again, and he eased into it. The third surprise: he reacted in a positive manner to something I did.

He looked down, and began attempting to calm his heartbeat down. I squeezed his shoulder lightly so he knew it was okay, and he didn't budge. For a few moments, we stood like that, until his breathing returned to normal. He shrugged me off, though not unkindly, and sat back down.

"We must return to the papers," he said harshly. I sighed, realizing that with his normal heartbeat, his nasty personality was restored.


	6. Goose Chase

Chapter 6

Javert and I walked down the road, and I realized how difficult it was to imitate his brisk and confident stride. We did not speak to the other; Javert would not speak because he had nothing to say, and I because I did not know about what to talk. Therefore, we strutted in silence, and I noticed a fair amount of heads turning towards our direction, likely in awe that Javert was not isolated as he usually was. I glanced up at him and saw that his lips were pursed and pushed upward toward his nose. I never before noticed how more menacing his scowl looked from below. His large sideburns hid part of his eyes; his bushy brows and the shadow from the brim of his top hat hid the rest. He refused to look down at me, so I looked ahead.

I saw ahead of me a young boy and his mother. One of the pudgy child's hands was clasped in his mother's, the other was greedily grasping on a large loaf of chocolatine. The corners of his mouth were stained with dark chocolate and he had the happiest face I had ever seen on a person – man, woman or child. As he slorped down his treat, all of a sudden at the corner the two were passing, a goose flew out of what was an obviously poorly built cage and into the street. It landed in front of the boy, startling him enough to let go of his prized bread, which the goose promptly stole after a few nasty hisses at the child.

I stifled a chuckle or two, and I saw out of the corner of my eye that the stonehearted Inspector was trying not to smirk. We both happened to look at the mother at that moment, and her expression changed from the one of surprise from the goose to a twisted mix of embarrassment and anger.

"Go after that bird!" she shouted at us.

"Madam, please, it is but a harmless creature. We have better things to do with our time than to go on… wild goose chases." I snorted, and covered my nose and mouth with a gloved hand to smother the sound.

"Inspector!" cried the butcher, who was obviously the owner of the goose. "Get me back my bird!"

"Get my bread!" shrieked the child.

I barely heard Javert when he mumbled a curse, and was quite surprised to see him actually advance toward the winged creature. He was deliberate in his steps, slow and careful, his arms out wide in an almost comedic fashion, his back curved forward and his knees bent. Without turning his head he muttered, loud enough so I could hear, "If you ever repeat a word of this to anyone, you're dead."

I snorted, and nodded, trying in vain to keep a straight face. Javert may be an expert at hiding his emotions, but I certainly was not. I couldn't help but snicker and giggle as he slowly made his way to the bird, as if he was trying to sneak up on it. The goose looked at him lazily, flapping his wings half-heartedly as he scurried away from those large, dark hands. Javert was really getting intent on catching the bird, and I saw him position himself, as though getting ready to pounce. My eyes widened as his knees bent low, and he positioned himself as a cat would. He remained like that for a few moments before flying at the bird with an animalistic growl. I burst out laughing as the goose freaked and flew up, out of his grasp, sending him to the ground hard, before landing on his back. My commanding officer quickly rose up and attempted to snatch the animal, but it flew on his head. The bread at this point was abandoned, but no one cared. Everyone was focusing on the show. Javert attempting to throw off a goose quite intent on plucking out his jugular was surprisingly amusing.

"Get this off me, Lieutenant, _immediately_," he snapped. When I didn't budge after three seconds, he added sharply, "_That's _an _order_!"

I quickly ran over to the two, but the goose seemed determined on making Javert his victim, and hissed at me so that he could continue with his primary concern of gouging out his eyes.

"I can't – I can't do anything, sir!"

"So help me, woman! I will _not _be made the fool. You get this beast off me, _now_!"

I stood there for a moment, unsure. Then, with all my vigour, leapt on his back, managing to grab the goose by its two legs before it could fly away. It squawked and the Inspector yelped at my sudden intrusion, however.

"What – Get – Get off me, Lieutenant! Immediately! What in the Devil's name—?"

"Shush! I got the bird! Let me calm it down!"

"Calm it down? You can't calm down a comatose!"

"That doesn't make sense!"

"It isn't supposed to!"

"I'm trying to help you!"

"Clearly I trusted the wrong person!"

"_Clearly_!"

I wrestled the bird into my arms as Javert threw me off. I landed on my side, and the goose shrieked as we tumbled. It continued to writhe and thrash as I haphazardly managed to throw it into a crate.

"_There_!" I cried, crossing my arms in a triumphant, if not exhausted huff. There was some clapping behind me from the audience we had gathered, but when they knew their show was over, they quickly returned to do whatever chores they had left unattended.

I walked over to my superior officer, and brushed off some feathers and straightened his jacket, even though he kept brushing me off.

"Don't be so heartless," I joked. "I saved your life, you know."

Javert wasn't in the joking mood. "You've embarrassed me quite thoroughly today, Lieutenant. Acting maternal certainly will not help matters."

Suddenly the little boy from earlier came running up to us, a grin a mile wide on his chocolate-stained face. He had clearly forgotten all about his pastry.

"Thanks for the show, monsieur! You really fought that goose hard!" The boy seemed genuinely pleased at Javert's circus act. Javert looked at the boy numbly, uncertain of what to reply.

The mother came up. "Léonide, we have to go now. Leave the police alone. Come along." The boy eagerly grabbed his mother's slender hand, and they departed. She gave us a thankful nod before they passed us. Javert followed them with his eyes, but did not turn his head like I did.

I turned back to Javert. "See? You made the boy really happy."

"My intention was not to please anyone; it was to apprehend a piece of meat that had escaped. It was posing a threat."

"Right, of course."

He began to walk ahead of me. I quickly caught up. "Wait for me," I hissed.

My superior officer looked down at me. He did not turn his head toward me; he didn't have to. I looked up at him, and he stared ahead.


	7. Mircea's Plot

Chapter 7

"Why did you bring us here, Mircea?"

"What do you want, boy?"

"What do you mean by bringin' us to an abandoned warehouse, of all places? It stinks in here."

I grinned at my friends. I knew they were the right men for the job. Not only were they intelligent, but they were strong workers; tough, and good at following orders. All I had to do was convince them.

"My friends, I have an offer for you. A job you would otherwise be begging to do. You see, I find myself in a dilemma – my sister is working under a terrible man to repay a debt."

"What are you talking about?" asked Fonso. Mihai and Milosh nodded together; they truly wanted to know. They took the bait; time to reel them in.

"My sister stole from Inspector Javert."

There was suddenly chaos; an uproar of profanities, and spitting blame for her reckless nature. I ignored these comments, focusing on the silver lining.

"Don't you see? This is our chance! A fantastic opportunity! Javert has been a name to fear for our people for years! Now we have the chance to put out that flame once and for all. We will be heroes amongst our people! Think of it. Not only will our names be glorified forever, we will have destroyed the one name… the one man… every person on the streets fears. We will _extinguish_ Inspector Javert."

Milosh glared at me, a sceptical glint in his one eye. "And how, pray, are we goin' t' manage this?" he asked, his gruff Slavic accent scraping at my ears. I had to remind myself to tell him later to ease off the cigars.

"With this," I cried dramatically, gesturing at the warehouse, spreading my arms wide. "In this warehouse, we will take out Javert easily. We'll have to be cunning, though – no fair game here."

"What makes you believe we'd play fair with_ l'Inspecteur_?"

"I would like to make a few adjustments to that uniform of his, myself," quipped Mihai.

"With him still in it!" growled Fonso, his twisted sneer showing the five black gaps he had accumulated from several bar fights. The other men laughed heartily at this, jabbing at each other with their elbows.

My grin grew wide. Oh, how pleasant was this outcome!

"Of course, my friends, of course," I said, nodding my head sagely. "All in good time. Remember, though, we must keep our heads above water – we cannot let the heat of the moment get to our brains. Keeping cool is key."

I paused for a breath, and then brought my arm high above my head swiftly.

"This is the time for redemption! It will be perfect, my friends, and we will forever be free of the chains that have bound our people for so long!"

The air grew cold and a flurry of wind blew through the warped wooden door, causing it to slam against the wall. The gust blew my hair back and ruffled my coat behind me like a cape. A thunderclap was heard in the distance. Fonso turned toward the sound, but the other two stayed transfixed upon me.

"We will finally defeat Javert! Once and for all, that name will no longer choke the hearts of the people! He will be at our mercy, and _we_ will be the ones wielding the blade. We will no longer have to cower in fear at the vision of this man's face."

They cheered. The plan was working even more smoothly than I had anticipated.

"With this," I said, gesturing to a lantern, "we will see his demise."

Another cheer, and praise for my cunning plan. I had to admit I was growing excited at it all as well. I turned to them, and with a voice as mighty as Zeus, I cried, with earnestness and elation,

"This is our chance! This will be our victory!"


	8. New Blood, Old Wounds

Chapter 8

"How is the paperwork going?"

I looked up from the mountain of documents to see the boy who heralded me and Javert on my first official day. I had found out that his name was Franc.

"It's… it is going fine," I said hesitantly. I didn't trust the boy from the look he gave me that day. He seemed perky today, and that only made me feel more suspicious, but I wanted to give him a chance, so I pushed the feeling down.

He grinned at me, and I sank lower in my seat. "The Inspector sent me. He tells me it's urgent."

"Oh? Let me go see him, then. I'm so new at this, I should get my –"

"No!" he cried suddenly, grabbing my arm. I looked at him, alarmed. "He's really busy right now, Lieutenant, and if you go in it'll just anger him."

"Does he anger easily?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. I had been practicing such a move in front of my mirror for the past few days, a while since the goose incident. I thought it looked quite effective. I already knew the answer to my question, but I was wondering what his answer would be.

"Yes, Lieutenant, very much so." He looked worried. "I don't want you to feel the extent of his wrath, being so new and all." He seemed generally concerned for my well-being. Maybe he never had any good encounters with my superior, and as such thought I would get the full-fledged rage of Javert if I did anything wrong. I tried to hide a smirk; I didn't want this young man to know that I was likely on what you would call "good terms" with the Inspector.

"Ah, thanks."

He nodded, and smiled again. "He said it was very important, and that you have to hurry." He handed me a small piece of folded paper. I could see the ink seeped through the thin sheet, and went to unfold it, but Franc grabbed my wrist. "Not here," he whispered forcibly, "not here." I didn't understand why he said that, but realized this must be a secret mission of some kind, and had to bite my cheek to keep from smiling when he said, "I can't see it. You have to leave, now, and then you can look."

"Of course, Franc. Thank you."

Outside, the clouds loomed, and although there was no threat of rain, the sky was darkened as a result. My pace quickened; if I dawdled, I would certainly get in trouble with Javert, even though I would feel no 'wrath'.

I looked at the small piece of manuscript.

_Go to the alley three stores after the baker's, after you take a left on Rue Poncelet. Do not let anyone see or follow you._

I shrugged. It didn't much sound like Javert, but he could be very aggravated. This could be serious. And making sure no one follows me… maybe there are ruffians or spies involved. I tried not to get to excited.

I entered the gloomy alley slowly, my footfalls echoing, resounding off the high walls. The cobblestones were wet, and there were quite a few puddles. I figured it was because a place like this offered no sunlight. I could see clearly enough, though not any details.

"Well!" cried a voice in the shadows. The sound boomed around me, and I winced. "What do we 'ave 'ere? A little dog that's lost its master? Well come 'ere, little doggy, and we'll help you find your way."

Three large forms emerged from the darkness. Rough-looking men, deep scars protruding over arms, necks and shaved heads, wearing threadbare undershirts and loose black pants. Only one had hair, a greasy, dirty blond mane that he kept pulling out of his eyes. They all had pale, squinty eyes that scrutinized me, and I felt the colour wash from my face.

"Well, little doggy? Can you speak?" The mates of the biggest one roared, seeming to find his words hilarious. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Can I help you with something?" I asked sternly, though I could not, as hard as I tried, hide the quiver of fear in my voice. I knew guys like these, and they were not to be underestimated. Guys like these knocked my brother unconscious for three days.

"Yeah, that's right. You can help us. Your Javert's bitch, ain't ya?"

"I'm his subordinate."

"Yeah, his _bitch_!" All three of them began laughing this time, as though the joke was too good to bear. I winced.

"Please, sir," I said, ignoring the comment, "is there something that you actually need? Otherwise this conversation is without meaning, and I would gladly be able to go on my way." I tried not to think about the fact that Javert might show up and have to deal with these guys, but I figured if I could at least lead them out of the alley, he would be safe. As strong as Javert is, I doubted he could take on these brutes.

"Yeah, I do need sumthin', now that you mention it, darlin'," he snarled. And with that, I received a shockingly painful punch to the gut, powerful enough to send me falling to my knees, coughing violently. "I need you to send a message to Javert," he said, ignoring my wheezing. "You won't be doing it directly, though, being dead and all."

I couldn't believe what was happening to me. I was scared out of my mind, but my body wouldn't listen as my brain screamed to run. Dead? Why do they want me dead?

And as though he heard me, the leader of the threesome started talking again. "You see, doggy, Javert did some bad things in his life—" he paused to kick me in the ribs "—and now he is going to pay for everything he's done. And what better way than to take away anything that matters to him?"

Through a series of violent hacks, I managed to sputter, "You fool; Javert doesn't care about me, so this is useless." That earned trouble, I found out. He took me up by the collar, pulling me up until my feet dangled over the ground, before kneeing me in the stomach and shoving his elbow down on my spine as I doubled over. I fell to the ground in a heap. Saliva caught in my throat, and I had another painful coughing fit. I wiped my mouth and started panting hard, attempting to regain some pride. Every time I strained to breathe normally, however, with a closed mouth, I would have to pant harder. The man distributing the blows had a scar over his right eye. There was nothing in the half-open socket.

"It doesn't matter, little doggy! You're useful to him, so you matter. He'll get the message loud and clear." He kicked my face casually.

"You're a clingy little pup," said the other bald man. "I saw you hangin' off Javert as though he was Christ himself come to save ya from damnation!"

The greasy one sneered, and bent down to my level, pulling my head back roughly by my hair, twisting my neck uncomfortably so that I was forced to look at his disgusting face. "I bet you've bed the good Inspector, eh?" he spat at me, at I could only wince at the physical pain, though their words caused me more than simple discomfort. "You pathetic girl, that's how you got in, eh? Javert likes 'em dark, just like himself? What do you think if he had a taste o' me?" He laughed harshly again, and spit in my face.

"Stop that," I muttered. "Do not insult… him…" Damn, it was getting really hard to breathe. And that kick to the face made my vision go back and forth from normal to blurry.

"Do not what? Do not _what_? Speak up, bloody child!" said the one-eyed man. "It's true, ain't it so? Youse was fawning over yer superior like a love-struck teenager." I noticed that, in the flurry of excitement, his accent had gotten worse. I could not distinguish it, for it sounded more like a mouthful of bile than an actual accent of any kind. "Youse been sleeping with him, aye? Stealing away dark secrets of the night? Cuddlin' till the mornin' sun and the sweet dew?"

"Don't get poetic," I managed to say in the most condescending manner I could muster. "It really doesn't suit you." He put me in a chokehold, but slipped, and I bit down on the flesh of his arm. He cried out, and I whipped around in a sudden burst of energy, bringing my foot up and kicking him squarely in the groin. He screamed, and took me by the throat, slamming me like a ragdoll against the cold wall.

"_What was that?_" he bellowed. "You tryin' to fight back, dog? Trying to save yerself and run to yer master wit' yer tail between yer legs? _Guess again_! You're dead as dead now!" I couldn't help but whimper as he applied more pressure to my neck. Breathing was impossible. I started to lose consciousness.

"No… please…"

"Shut up!" he screamed, slamming me against the wall again. I let out a strangled cry, tears forming in my eyes and blood filling my mouth. I spit it at him, and he growled. "Stupid bitch! You're going to get it now."

"Excuse me, sir, I believe that is my subordinate you are holding."

_No…_

I struggled to look over, but I couldn't see out of my right eye. "J-Ja—?"

"Stay where you are, Lieutenant," said the voice, low and rough and enraged. "I can't have you getting into any more trouble, or you'll get us both killed."

I didn't notice that the tears that were forming in my stinging eyes were now flowing freely. The blood that was masking my right eye was being washed away, and I could barely see a tall shadow. I sobbed, and the hand tightened its grip.

"If you do not let her go now, you will die."

"My pleasure, Inspector." He dropped me so suddenly that I fell flat on my stomach. The stones scraped my cheeks and hands. It hurt to breathe, but I did, in choked gasps. "I expect you will take her place?"

"Not likely," replied the voice. _Please let him be lying. Please let that not be Javert._ The low, confident voice was unmistakable, but I tried so hard not to believe it.

All I could hear were shouts and cries of pain. The swooshing of a cloak, the soft grunt of a person making a hit on their target with nothing but a bare fist, the sound of the target receiving the blow and finding it more than simply painful. I saw feet; the stumbling, clumsy feet of the thugs and a set of shining black boots. He hardly made a sound.

Finally, with three horrid thuds, the brutes fell to the cobblestone ground. I heard footsteps, soft in the gloom, come over to me. I began shivering out of fear. Maybe I was wrong; maybe one of the brutes had defeated him…

"Lieutenant," said that voice. I sobbed in relief, and let him pull me up to a sitting position. I buried myself in his chest, not caring whether he found it uncomfortable. He let me stay that way for a few moments, then patted me on the shoulder. "We have to go back."

"W-w-what a-a-about the—"

"They'll be out for a long while," said Javert reassuringly. "I'll get an officer to arrest them when we return."

He helped me up, and I held onto his sleeve as we made our way back to his office. Once there, I undressed and put on a nightgown, trying to rid myself of anything physical I could remember about tonight. "Can I get a new uniform?" I asked meekly.

"I'll see what I can do."

We stayed in silence together for a long time, him near the stove, I on the couch.

"He noticed me looking at it," I said softly. "That's what got him so angry."

"What are you talking about?"

"The largest man… he had only one eye."

Javert sighed, and came to sit down beside me. "It started out as a simple bar fight. There was nothing of real significance, until the man your assaulter was fighting pulled a switchblade from his pocket. His opponent didn't notice, but I did. I tried to pull the two of them apart…" He trailed off, and looked at me. I must have looked terrible; I still hadn't washed my face, nor did I even glance at a mirror. I felt dried blood smeared on my face, but I didn't move. I wanted to hear this. Slowly, he continued.

"The man with the knife managed to give me a superficial wound, and I couldn't keep hold as the other man struggled out of my grasp. He tripped and fell on a broken bottle that had been damaged during the fight. I arrested the man with the knife, but the injured one ran away." He sighed wearily. "I didn't know he had blamed me."

"You didn't mean to do it," I said.

"I should have kept a better grip on him," he replied. "I never have had that happen before; I always keep my grip."

"You didn't mean to do anything," I repeated. "It wasn't your fault." After a long silence, he looked back up at me. He stared at me for a while, and his gaze wasn't cold this time. After a while, he said, "I'm sorry you had to get involved."

I shook my head, feeling my face grow hot. "It doesn't matter."

"I was… concerned."

I looked up, shocked at these words, but he had turned away, looking at the door. "It was Franc who had sent them," he said. "He was jealous of you for 'stealing' his position as my subordinate, and he wanted to make you quit. He did not realize that the thugs he hired would take this opportunity to make their revenge on me, but nonetheless he was fired."

"F-Franc did this?"

"He was fired," repeated Javert. "He is no longer a threat to you. He apologized to me for putting me in danger, said he would not return, and left for Montpellier."

"Oh… I see."

"You need your rest," said Javert, getting up. "Sleep here for a while, until you calm down. But first, wash your face. You look terrible."


	9. Sibling Rivalry

Chapter 9

"Look, sir, I better get home. Mircea is probably wondering where I am. I haven't been home in a while." It was true – I hadn't gone home since the incident in the alley, which was now five days past. My superior nodded.

"Yes," he replied, "that would be reasonable. Finish your paperwork and you may leave."

"Thank you, sir."

I was grateful, but it took three hours to get all the paperwork completed, and I was completely exhausted by the end of it. "What's the matter?" asked the Inspector, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "Too tired to go home now?"

"Leave me alone, it's been a rough week." His expression stiffened a bit, and he nodded again. "Quite right," he said, and I took that for an apology. I packed my things in the dresser that belonged to me in his desk, went into the bathroom to change into a blue chambray dress, and made my departure silently. I had sworn not to let Mircea know what had happened; he would surely blame Javert.

I walked home without a word, and barely a thought. I had no idea how my return would be taken; the children would be glad to see me, but I wasn't sure how the others would. I walked through the door, but no one was in the room, other than a sleeping Florica. The children did not run to greet me, and my brother did not come to kiss me on the cheek and call me his little troublemaker. I suddenly felt very homesick, even though I was standing right in my house. I looked out the window, and realized absentmindedly that I had never before noticed that I could view the prison from here.

"Tsura! What are you doing here?" I whipped around and saw my brother in the doorway, with Aishe sitting on his arm and Walther and Jaelle at his feet. I had figured that Loiza was out playing with his friends, which he had started to do often. He let Aishe down, and they all scurried over to hug my legs. I had to spin my arms to keep balance, and then I looked back up at Mircea.

"I'm home."

He just stood there, silent, his eyes strangely dark. I had to ignore him, and focus on the children, who were asking if I was home forever. I bent to my knees, and said, "No, darlings, not forever. For tonight." They all moaned their disappointment, but I laughed their sad faces away. "It'll be okay; I'll come back when I can."

"Tsura, we need to talk."

I knew this would come. I got up, brushed the kids away (who ran to their mother) and went to walk with him. We went outside, to the spot where he exclaimed his discontent. He turned to me, and put his hands on my shoulders. "Tsura, you must leave the force. I beg of you. You cannot be around Javert any longer." He looked at me with desperate, pleading eyes, even though his mouth was firm and his voice without quiver. That was Mircea's one weak spot; you could always tell what he was feeling with his eyes. I looked back at him, my eyes equally pleading.

"Please stop this nonsense, brother. You know I must do this." _Do you know that I want to?_

"You are the one being nonsensical, _sister_. Strolling around with that – that—"

"—That _what_, Mircea? That _what_? You have no idea who he is! Damn you! You know as well as I that prejudice is an ugly thing," I cursed at him. How I hated him at that moment. How could he still hold so much against a man he did not even know?

"I know more about his ugliness than you. I understand that man's black soul – I know that he is nothing inside, a hollow shell of a man. You are naïve, child."

"I have been around him long enough to know he is human. How dare you speak of him in such a vile manner—!" I did not think he would slap me. The sound echoed down the street.

"Oh, Tsura, I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to!"

He didn't expect me to strike him back, so hard I broke the skin. Tiny pinpricks of blood formed on the surface of his flesh, and his glasses fell off. "_What gives you the right to order me around? I'm not your slave, I'm your sister! I am not that much younger than you, and I'm an adult – I have every right to do whatever I want! You do not give me privileges! I won't ever come home if you hate me so much!_" He was still on the ground, holding his red cheek. His eyes were wide with shock. "_I like working for Javert!_" I screamed.

He stared at me in horror. Those last five words seemed to stab him in his heart. He got up quickly, grabbing his cracked glasses and walking hurriedly down the street before I could say anything else.

I groaned, exasperated and annoyed. How could he do this to me? I thought he would finally accept me – I understood that he needed his time, being to close to our father had put a major toll of his health. But he couldn't deny me continuously like this! I had my own rights. I stomped back into the house, resisting the urge to slam the door. The children had fallen asleep, spread across their mother on her bed. Florica looked at me, a worried look on her face.

"What is wrong?" she asked.

"It's nothing," I replied, a little too sharply. I sighed, and looked at her resignedly. "Mircea and I fought."

She nodded. "It is as siblings do," she said calmly.

"Mircea's acting like a total imbecile," I muttered.

"Oh? What is it that he's doing that is so idiotic?"

"He wants me to relinquish my post as Javert's subordinate. He knows I need to do this to repay the man. He's being pigheaded! He doesn't understand that it was hard for me at the beginning."

"Well, how should he act, then?"

"He shouldn't act like _this_!" I whispered frantically, stepping close. "He should be my brother, not a prison guard. Has he ever thought for one moment what my life must be like? Has he ever thought of what I want?"

"Have you?"

I stopped, and looked at her, my mouth open. She smiled softly, and continued. "I know you think you understand what your brother is going through, but do you really? Have you ever considered how this is affecting him? It is clear he hates the Inspector for what he did, and is blind to the fact it wasn't his fault. But that should give you enough opportunity to see that you working for the one man he despises in the entirety of the world is breaking his heart." I gazed at her sadly, my anger breaking like a mirror, shards falling into a thousand crystalline pieces on the floor. I slumped into the chair beside the bed.

"What have I done? I told him I liked my job. I've never seen his face so pale, even at the funeral."

Florica's smile faded. "You should keep those things to yourself," she warned, though her voice as soft as before was now also grey and dark. "You understand how many people here hate him. I wouldn't want them after you." I lowered my eyes. I was being hot-headed, and I had to find Mircea, and apologize.

"Apologize to your brother," said Florica, petting the head of Walther, who was softly snoring. "It will make him feel better."

I nodded. "Va multumesc, domnisoara Florica. Aceasta inseamna un lot."

"It isn't a problem, my dear. You don't need to thank me." I nodded again, and left the house to go find my brother.

"Mircea? Mircea, please come back. I'm sorry! Mircea!" My calls had so far been fruitless. I had asked around, and no one had seen any sign of my brother. I looked everywhere I could think of.

Several hours had passed, and the sky was turning orange. I ran to the middle of Pont-du-Change, screaming his name as loud as I could.

"_Brother!_"

It felt hopeless. I sulked back to the house, collapsing on the chair in the bathroom. I felt tired and old and ridiculous. But through all this ridiculousness, the fact that I was unbelievably tired took over and I soon fell asleep, hunched over on the chair. I was too tired to move when I felt the weight of a warm blanket covering me.

"How was the visit?" asked Javert. I cracked my neck and twisted my torso until I felt a satisfying _snap! _in my spine.

"It was fine," I said.

"Was it?" He seemed sceptical. I nodded. "Yes, sir," I said. "But if you excuse me, I have paperwork I must attend to."

He looked like he might smile, then nodded and pointed to my seat. I went over to the chair slowly, and sat down. The quill scratched roughly over the paper. I didn't look up from my work, although for the longest time I felt Javert's eyes on me. Finally he looked away, and his quill soon matched mine in rhythm.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_

**To relieve anyone from confusion, I would like to explain the use of different languages. Even though the spoken language is shown almost completely in English, much of it is, in fact, in French, considering the location. However, this would be tedious to write, as even though I am quite fluent in French, it is not that of France. Also, writing in English is not only easier but much more fun; literary devices are slim in French. I will not write a translation of what is said in a footnote because of the few times that I will write in languages other than English. Also, I will only show any of the Roma speaking Romanian because it would get confusing switching from Hungarian to Romanian (besides, how could Florica and the children understand Tsura and Mircea?) and there is not a decent English-to-Romani translator. Because Romani is an old (lost?) language, and is a mix of several different dialects (considering the nomad-style of living), I decided to go with Romanian, even though according to Wikipedia the language is closer to Indian. The whole thing in general is actually quite confusing, and the dialect can differ quite a bit depending on which location you are in, apparently (more so than French). There is something about Vlachs and non-Vlachs, but that involves modern-day Romanians, and does not apply to this situation. So, to recap, English is used mainly even though French is regularly spoken, although some instances I will use phrases, sentences, or perhaps even small paragraphs in French. Romanian will be used a little more sparingly, only in phrases, sentences and words. Romanian is the substitute for the Romani language of the region and time, and is likely not accurate.**

**Also, once I get Chapter 10 finished, you guys will be treated to an eight-chapter bomb. I just have to finish it and then Chapter 19 which is at least a third of the way done.**


	10. Dreams or Memories

**Author's Note: Just want to say a quick thank you to everyone! Not only did I get fantastic reviews, but so many people from everywhere have been reading it, adding it to their alerts and even favourites! Wow! I gotta say that I am touched. To show my gratitude, I'm adding all of these chapters at once! I had them all for a while but I couldn't figure out what to do for chapter 10. But here it is, finally!**

**Hope you keep on enjoying! Thank you so much for all the love!**

**

* * *

**

Chapter 10

The next few weeks were rather unexciting. A month had gone by with nary a theft or murder attempt, and we were steadily rolling into the third month with little more to do other than paperwork. I had spent almost a year working for Javert already, and it seemed like a normal thing, a second nature to me to come into work every day, or even stay in the office well past midnight. Often one or both of us ended up spending the night in his room, falling asleep over paperwork, or collapsing onto the couch after a long day of simple exhaustion. I smiled when Javert fell asleep at his desk or on the furniture near the stove. He would always do far more work than was ever necessary, and barely gave himself time for rest. I had a sneaking suspicion that he lived in his office; I had never seen him leave to go 'home'. It wasn't my concern, however, and I let it pass.

I clicked my pen against the ink a few times, as though I could magically make more paperwork appear, seeing as there was nothing else to do, but of course nothing came. I tossed the quill into the bottle in frustration, and leaned back in my chair, an irritated groan escaping my throat. "This is nonsense," I drawled. Javert wasn't in the room, so I proceeded to make my complaints verbally apparent by groaning and sighing. I covered my eyes with my forearm.

I was still thinking about Mircea. I had not seen him since that night, and I had made very few attempts to visit. My home was no longer the tiny two-and-a-half house. My home was here, with Javert. As much as I was ashamed to admit it, I was no longer a part of my own family.

No, I couldn't think like that. I had to try and reconcile with my brother. I had to mend the broken seams. There had to be a way… I had to find a way to return to what we used to be.

I shook my head. I was overthinking everything. I needed to calm myself down. I began to breathe deeply, humming a lullaby to myself. Gradually my eyelids felt heavier and heavier and eventually were shut completely. I mumbled the rest of the lullaby, and, just before the final chorus, I was dozing softly in my chair.

My dream was a distant memory, not all there…

"_Mircea, hurry, hurry up!"_

"_No! Tsura, you slow down!"_

_We laughed as my brother ran after me. In my hand I clutched the doll my mother had sewn for me; it wasn't anything to speak of, a little plush thing almost resembling me in a spring-green dress, stuffed with feathers and straw, but I loved it. I scurried away from Mircea, giggling. The sky was grey. _

_Suddenly, I found myself face to face with a large dog on a very thick rope attached to a pole. My toy was under its paw, and it was growling fiercely at me. I didn't know what else to do, and I was frightened, so I began to blubber and sob. My brother had appeared by my side; I did not know how he got there so quickly. He made a constant, calming "shh" noise, his right hand straight out in front of him, his left hand at an angle. He stepped toward the dog carefully, trying to get to his knees as quickly as possible without startling the dog. "Good boy, good dog," he said shakily. He went to pet it, but touched his nose accidentally. His hand moved out of the way of the animal's teeth just in time. He tried again. The dog seemed to calm down. "Shhh, shhh," murmured my brother. "You have my sister's doll, and she wants it back." He gently kneeled down, and then, as quickly as he could, grabbed the doll and stumbled backwards. The dog's teeth ripped at his arm. The wound was shallow, although the bite would later turn into a scar. He grinned at me, the doll in his hand. "Here you go!"_

I mumbled something and shifted my position in my chair. The memory was a different one.

_A flash of lightning. A rumble of thunder. The hard pattering of a cold, unforgiving rain. I shivered under the table, bringing the blanket more tightly around me. My parents were gone somewhere; I didn't know where or for how long. I whimpered. The sound of the storm drowned out everything else. I wanted someone to comfort me._

_A hand rested on my shoulder. I jumped, and looked into the kind eyes of my brother. He hugged me immediately. "It's just a storm," he said. "There isn't anything to be scared of."_

"_But it's so loud… it-it-it-it's frightening!" I cried. Thunder crackled menacingly and I felt Mircea's arms tighten their hold around me._

"_Just calm down, Tsurie," he said. "A storm is a great thing. It makes things grow, and sometimes, if you're lucky, you see a rainbow appear in the sky. And all the birds sing. It's wonderful." I could hear his smile. I began to calm down._

_Suddenly I was outside, in the rain. No longer a child… no, it is me as I a young woman, barely sixteen… the man holding me is Mircea… when did he grow up to be so big? He's shivering against the rain, but we do not go inside. Our father had just been just taken away by Javert and some other faceless officers. I remembered Javert's eyes… cold, and hard, and so terribly unforgiving. I screamed to let him go, let him go, let him go! He pushed me away and did not listen. He must have forgotten about it by now. Mircea never did. I couldn't._

_I am just a few years younger than the age I am now. I am standing on the bridge overlooking the Seine. Thunder rumbled in the distance. I didn't even flinch. I just thought of my father. We were lucky to have figured out his fate – a convict that had escaped had found us and told us the hurried news before running off. It was lucky that just as I started to cry the rain started. It soaked me to the bone. My wails echoed, and I didn't care. I leaned against the parapet to keep from falling. The arms that came from behind were thick and strong and wrapped me comfortingly. _

_When I turned around…_

"_Javert?"_

I woke up with a start, then rubbed my forehead. "I hate the rain," I muttered bitterly. "What a stupid dream."


	11. True Impression

Chapter 11

"Move out of the way, you stupid girl!"

I barely managed to register what was going on before I felt a hand clamp on the back of my collar and pull me swiftly and painfully to the side. I fell to the ground hard. The rain that had started early that afternoon made the stones of the road slick, and finding my balance was impossible when I could not even tell what direction was right or left. I heard muffled screaming and a crash.

I took a moment to compose myself, and was about to get up when I felt a hand – I could not tell if it belonged to the same person – pull me harshly to my feet. It was Javert, and his eyes were fire.

"What on earth are you doing lying down? Help out, you incompetent child!"

My eyes felt like a coating of fuzz was covering them, and it took a good few moments for me to regain my proper vision. I blinked rapidly.

The scene before me was a flurry of movement. I watched as people hurried back and forth, helping each other from the cold, wet ground, and gathering fallen red and ginger stones.

No, not stones. Apples and oranges littered the ground.

I realized I was just standing numbly, and shook myself awake.

"Javert?" I called. He had left me by the side of the road, and I lost sight of him.

"I told you, you will call me either sir or Inspector. I won't handle insubordination."

I suppressed a sigh of relief, and turned around to see him standing there, with a bag filled to the brim with bruised apples. He shoved the bag in my arms. "Make yourself useful," he said.

"Wait a –" I started, but he had already gone. I watched as he helped the elderly men and women struggling to pick up the fruit, and yelled at anyone being lazy or just dawdling. I stared down at the bag then, anger stirring inside me, put it to the side of the road and ran to aid everyone else. I wasn't going to let Javert believe I was idiotic or useless.

"What are you doing, Lieutenant?" he said. He stared at me coldly as I began tearing at pieces of wood – the two broken wheels and part of the cart – and throwing them to the side. "We're not trying to take the cart apart!"

"I know that, sir! This happened to my uncle; I know what to do. These pieces of wood are flimsy, and they'll just pose a danger! We can reattach them later!"

"We don't have the tools!" It was becoming necessary to scream now; the rain was pelting down on us. I was jealous of Javert for owning a hat, though it looked like it didn't help much.

A middle-aged man with thick arms and a scraggly beard said his shop was three houses down, and they could wait for the rain to let up before doing anything. It seemed, whether I would be doing this or not, we'd have to wait out the rain before the man who owned the cart could do anything. I looked up and saw him, hiding from the rain in a doorway, with a woman's arm wrapped around his shoulders. He looked so upset, I felt my strength grow, and worked faster. I was still much slower than Javert; I am nimble and flexible but not very strong. The heavy pieces of wood were taking a lot of energy out of me.

Javert seemed to notice this. "Stop pushing yourself – you'll become useless."

Another spark of rage, and power returned, if only momentarily, to my limbs. "Not a damn chance, _sir_."

Javert's eyebrow twitched. "Have it your way, girl," he said, continuing his work.

When we finished cleaning the area, there was some clapping and back-patting. A man in a loose cotton shirt and dark blue vest came over to me, patting me good-naturedly on the shoulder. "You did a fine job there," he said, his gruff voice kind and his gap-toothed smile genuine.

"T-thanks," I said, and he moved on.

Javert walked over to me. "You seemed rather intent on proving your worth to me."

"Did I succeed?"

That single eyebrow raise was really starting to get on my nerves. "Perhaps," he said. He looked down, and his eyelids flickered. He grabbed at my hands suddenly before I had a chance to realize he was moving.

"For the sake of whatever deity you hold sacred, child, can't you even _attempt_ to be careful?"

I stared at him stupidly for a moment, before looking down at my hands. Scratched and cracked, thin trails of blood snaked down my arms and dripped on the cobblestone. My palms glistened with red. Some tiny pieces of wood jutted out of the flesh.

"Oh…" I murmured.

Javert gave a heaving sigh, muttered something about how I'm more trouble than I'm worth, and then began using his teeth to take out the splinters. It made my stomach twist to see his mouth coated with my blood.

"Stop," I said softly, although he was helping immensely. My clumsy fingers would've just shoved the splinters in deeper, causing a serious infection.

He spit the last one out. "I believe that I just saved you from months of torment, so if I were you I would be expressing my gratitude." He wiped his mouth, and his glove changed from white to red. His upper lip curled back, and he spit again. I couldn't tell if it was necessary or not.

"Listen, I –!" But I cut myself off when I saw a flash in the corner of my eye. A small boy was running hurriedly from the scene of the crash, and just before he turned the corner, I managed to catch a glimpse of orange in his pocket.

I sighed, and with a mutter of "Shit!" turned on my heels and chased after him. I knew that if I cried 'Stop, thief!' a mob might start up from the men and women around the cart, and I couldn't have that for two reasons:

1. I have no idea how to calm down an angry mob, and

2. I think I can handle a young boy by myself.

I ran after the runt, but he was eerily fast, and I had to put most of my remaining strength pumping my legs to catch up to him.

"Goddamn it, kid," I cursed under my breath, "why couldn't you just be honest?"

At this point, he noticed I was racing after him, and bolted into a narrow, curving alleyway. Luckily, I knew exactly where that alleyway led to, and furiously sprinted forward. _Kid, I know these streets better than you; I grew up on 'em. Don't think for one second you can trump me there. _I finally found myself on the top of the arch bridge crossing over the street – an area where one route intersects the other. Luckily it was low, and I jumped off just as the boy came out from under (secretly very glad for the medical wraps around my chest), and I took hold of his collar as I fell and brought him to the ground with me (never said I was graceful).

"Stop – no, stupid, I said – god_damn it_!" Struggling with the lanky boy proved harder than I initially thought. He was like wet soap; slippery and hard to keep hold on.

"Let go of me, you—" with one strong push meant, in all likeness, to shove me off but only proved to twist my head upward in an awkward position, "—FREAK!"

I managed at that point to grab hold of his thin wrist, and twisted him around so his back faced me, and I pulled his arm up slightly, until he gasped and his knees fell in surrender.

"Shut up, you little twerp! You are in no position to speak to me like that! I am an officer of the law! Treat me with respect!" God, I was beginning to sound like a bad imitation of Javert. "You should know at your age that it is wrong to steal. I saw you take those oranges." I turned him around, holding him by the shoulders, and stared him down intently.

"Listen," I said, more calmly, seeing his face twisted in childlike indignation. "If you want the fruit that badly, earn it if you can't pay for it. Yes, I know hard work is aggravating sometimes, but –" he turned away, so I gave him a soft shake, alerting him to look into my eyes again, "–_ listen_. But you can't steal. It's wrong. You're costing that poor man money, and that's money he needs, considering what happened to him just now. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said the boy gloomily.

"Now you will walk back with me and return the fruit you took. I will let you go with a warning this time, but I don't know if I can help you again if you continue to do this. Do you promise me you'll stop stealing?"

The boy mumbled something incoherently and looked down at his shoes, shuffling away from my grasp but not running away.

"What?"

"I said yes."

"Good," I said, triumphant at my small victory. "Now," I began, lifting myself up and brushing off my knees – which helped for naught, considering how wet and dirty I had become, not to mention I now had blood on my clothes… as well as on the boy's, "come with me and we'll negotiate with the grocer."

"Not so fast." I turned around and shuddered – just as I had feared, it was Javert. There was no telling what he might do to the boy. I had a suspicion that the crime he hated worst of all was theft.

"Sir, please, listen to me," I said.

"No need to explain, I've seen it all," replied Javert icily. "Come, boy, with me. We'll talk to the grocer, you and I. Lieutenant, you go back to the station. I'll expect you in my office when I return."

I stared blankly at him until he disappeared from view. My mind sparked back to life at the same time I noticed the rain had let up, and one word formed in my mind.

_Shit!_


	12. Rain

Chapter 12

The rain had returned full force outside, and I heard it battering the walls and window.

I was pacing, back and forth, in my superior's quarters, when I heard the front door click, and stopped, in the middle of the room, as he entered. He crossed the room, and surprised me by standing directly across from me and not going to his desk as he usually would. I winced as he made a movement forward, and his eyebrow raised as he slowly crossed his arms, as if saying, "_What? Did you think I was going to hit you?" _I could only look at him worriedly.

"Well? Do you have anything to say?" said my boss, obviously meaning _"I can see you fidgeting; spit it out."_

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that boy should be put in jail. I really hope you didn't –" I stopped and looked at him, eyes wide. "You didn't, _did you_?"

"What?" asked Javert, feigning innocence, "Put that boy in a cold, dark cell? Why do you care?"

"Because he's a child, that's why! He's not strong mentally or physically. He'd never survive. He'd die…"

Javert looked at me long and hard. I kept his contact for as long as I could, but I turned my eyes down in defeat when it looked like I lost the battle.

"You idiot," I heard him say. "The boy is still roaming the streets."

I looked up at him, utterly shocked. "You didn't put him in prison?" I was astonished.

"I'm not inhumane, you understand. I know he could never survive in a jail cell. No child should ever have to feel cold bars in their hands…" He looked away, and I thought he saw something in the window, so I followed his gaze. Seeing nothing wrong outside, I turned back to him.

"Everything's okay now," I said, hoping he would know I meant the boy. I was surprised to see his eyes widen slightly, as though I said something important. I wondered if there was something wrong outside that I didn't see, and that he thought I meant the window.

"Yes, I suppose it is." I barely heard this slightly sarcastic murmur from the Inspector. He paused, but he seemed like he was going to say something else, so I kept silent.

"I'm not inhumane," he repeated. "I was actually taken aback that you ran after the young criminal so quickly."

"I couldn't let the crime go unpunished."

This time, there was no mistaking it. Javert's eyes widened in surprise as he looked at me.

"Really?" he said, quickly recovering his normal stony face. "It's hard to believe such a thing from a thief."

"_Former_ thief," I corrected him. "I've reformed."

He scoffed. "I don't believe that criminals can be reformed."

"Really? Then why did you let me on the force?"

He shut up then. After a silence, he said slowly, "I'm not sure who drugged me, or when, that night, but I don't go back on my word. What's done is done, and since you've proven you aren't a completely useless criminal, there isn't a point to arrest you. Yet."

"Yet?"

"Keep your voice to a dull roar, if you would be so kind, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir, sorry sir." _Yet? What in God's holy name does he mean by that? Is he actually still considering putting me behind bars?_

He looked over me with a critical eye. I was trembling from my wet and dirty clothes, and from the idea of living in a prison cell for the rest of my measly existence.

"I can't believe it, but in one day you've managed to go from clean to atrociously dirty. You'll need a new uniform while that one gets cleaned, as well. My word, girl, you are a struggle." He traced the loop of my shoulder rank insignia, stripping it of mud.

I was really starting to get cold. "W-w-well you do understand, I…" I was starting to feel… _numb_… and drowsy. "I truly don't… mean to…"

The last thing I saw before the world tipped over and my world went black was Javert leaning forward with a cautious hand and worried face, coming at me in slow motion.


	13. Eyes

Chapter 13

"Wake up. Woman, I said, wake up! _Lieutenant_. Tsura!"

I managed a weak moan. _No, Mircea, another few minutes, I'm feeling nauseous…_

"Well at least I know you're conscious, if only mildly. Who is Mircea?"

I tried to move, and found that it was painful, but I succeeded in turning my head and opening my eyes.

"What happened?"

Javert sighed. "You obviously can't handle certain conditions. You got a fever from staying in those filthy clothes. Really, child, did you not develop an immune system on the streets?"

I managed a weak smile. _I really must have a fever, for I find his sarcastic comments almost amusing. _

"Will I be okay, Doctor?"

"You don't have the strength to make quips right now. You have to rest."

I groaned as I lifted myself upright. My right shoulder in particular felt badly bruised. I was on his couch, I realized. I looked up at him once my elbows had properly propped up by upper body. I figured that Javert hadn't caught me in time, or maybe he just wanted me to fall, but I didn't say anything.

"Listen, sir, I'm feeling better. My sleep was more than satisfactory, and I'm simply a little sore at this point."

Javert looked at me, his brows furrowed in frustration. "If you sincerely believe I'm letting you get in a worse condition than you already are, you're sadly mistaken. You're staying there."

I looked at him with a weary eye. "It isn't as if you can handcuff to me to the bed."

He half-smirked and my eyes grew dark as I searched his face to figure out what he was so confident about. "I already have. Try moving your right foot."

I shook my foot, heard chinking, and felt resistance. "You –! You –!" I felt my already warm face get even hotter in rage.

"I still don't trust you," said my commanding officer, "and that goes double for you following my orders. I say that you are much too sickly to be wandering around, and that is final."

"Final?" Could he not understand that I cannot read his mind? I was reminded of the 'agreement' we seemed to share.

"You are staying in bed until you recover."

I was overcome by a bout of violent coughing just then, and fell hard on my back. Javert put his arm under me, lifted me up and, after the fit was over, gave me a glass of water. My arms felt life jelly, so he had to feed me. I felt incompetent, to say the least, and an embarrassed flush flew up on my cheeks.

_Damn, I suppose I am sick. This could not have come at a worse time._

I lay back down with a heavy sigh, slipping into the covers. "I suppose I should thank you, for helping me to recovery and all." I jangled my chains again. "Even though you took some pretty extreme precautionary measures."

"I only did what was necessary."

"_Of course_."

A sharp look from my superior. I lost myself in his eyes before realizing. The pale, sharp mixture of blue, green and grey was hypnotizing to my weary eyes. His strong features did nothing to help me steer my gaze away. I caught myself staring, finally, and looked away, but he noticed.

"Are you tired? You were falling out of consciousness, it seems. You were staring at me."

"I think I am. If you could leave for a while, I could rest."

He nodded curtly and got up. He hovered, then put a large hand over my forehead.

"You're still quite hot. I'll bring you a cold wet cloth."

"No, sir, that's _quite_ all right, I'll just rest."

His mouth tightened. "Very well," he muttered, and left.

I sighed and eased into my pillow. My mind swam, which made my growing headache only worse, but there was no helping it. I had to figure out what my mind was trying to tell me. Firstly, I had to figure out what my mind was even saying. I did not understand what that was, why I did that. I tried to recount the event, but it made my heart pound, which in turn made my stomach growl disagreeably. I moaned into my pillow, and I could not shake the feeling of extreme frustration. I groaned as I tried to decipher my mind. I sat up, trying to understand what was going on.

All I could think about was Javert. Even though my mind tried to focus on something else, his face kept appearing. Whenever I imagined my brother, he would transform into the uniformed Inspector. I saw his eyes so vividly my hands shook. I felt my face grow hot, and placed my cold hands on my cheeks. My stomach churned uncomfortably, but there was an emotion deep in my chest, something like and unlike nervousness. I wrapped my arms around myself, and sighed, closing my eyes. I let myself think of him, since it seemed to ease the pain, and yet multiply it twentyfold. I bit my lip, and grasped at my arms tighter. I eased back into the couch.

I looked around the room without turning my head. Any time my eyes fell upon an item of Javert's, my heart fluttered. I didn't understand. What was this fever doing to me?

A knock from the door suddenly disturbed my reverie. I called a hasty, "Come in!" and blushed when Javert entered with a glass of water.

"I can't have my subordinates getting ill," he said insistently.

"I'm already ill," I smirked. His eyebrow raised.

"I believe you understand what I mean."

I nodded, and glanced outside. The rain was a light shimmering veil at this point, and the sun shone through the clouds, making everything glimmer iridescently. What a marvellous thing, to be able to go from destructive to simply beautiful in a matter of hours.

Javert brought his hand forward, the one holding the glass. "Drink this. You'll feel better."

I brought the cool liquid to my lips, and felt a sweet pleasure as it ran down my throat. I pressed the perspiring glass to my forehead for a while, then handed it back to my superior.

_My superior. My boss. _Why was that painful to say all of a sudden?

He leaned in, a curious look on his face. I felt myself turning scarlet. He placed his hand on my forehead again.

"I guess it didn't work as quickly as I would have hoped. You're still burning. Maybe the fever is worse than I thought. You should stay here for the night."

"Alone?" I was used to being on my own for several nights at a time, but I felt weak in my sickness.

Javert's eyes narrowed, and his face hardened. "Are you worried someone might attack you? That hardly seems likely, you realize. Especially in a prison."

"I just don't want to be by myself for tonight," I said. My face flared as I realized how ridiculous I sounded.

Javert sighed, loudly and exasperatingly. My eyebrow twitched.

"Fine," he muttered. "I will accompany you tonight. But you will stay on the couch, and I on the chair. You will not move during the night, and if there is anything you require, you alert me. I don't want to wake up to find you collapsed in the doorway." He brought up my covers, revealing my shackled foot. "I might as well free you of this, since I'll be here to watch over you. Also, I don't want you moving about and tripping over yourself."

I smiled warmly. "Thank you, sir."

"Go to bed," he said curtly.

"Yes, sir."


	14. Fever

Chapter 14

The next morning, I was awoken by the sun shining on my face. I got up, and noticed that, other than where I was bruised, I felt fine. Javert's "remedy" seemed to have worked.

I looked up, and saw his sleeping figure in the chair. His chest rose and fell so gently. His face, for once, was calm and relaxed, and even though he still did not smile, he seemed happy. I wondered what kind of dream he was having. His arms were crossed lazily over his breast, and his chin was tucked into his coat collar. His eyes were beautiful, even when closed. He had long, dark lashes that fanned out. I inched my way closer to him. I was able to study his face, and I took the opportunity. His skin was dark, though not as much as my own, and coarse, although his hands looked very neat and well-kept. His hair was almost black, and soft. His image was warmed and brightened by the sunlight. He looked completely…

…_lovely_.

I blushed at the thought, and then blushed darker when I realized that I was staring intently at his face as though I was viewing a work of art.

Then he began to stir, and I jumped back in surprise. His eyelids fluttered delicately, and my heart felt squeezed at this sight – the hard, cold Inspector looking so serene and vulnerable. His slight motions were completely unlike him, and I was surprised that a simple thing like sleep could change him. Slowly he opened his eyes, and I got another close look at the strange mix of grey, green and blue that swirled in the irises.

He mumbled something incoherent, then groaned as he rose, stretching out and making audible cracking sounds as he twisted his neck, shoulders and back.

"Ah, Lieutenant, you're awake," he said when he saw me, sitting upright on the couch. "Did you sleep well?"

"Quite well, sir," I replied.

He raised his eyebrow. "It seems you're learning how to be a proper subordinate. Very good." He smirked crookedly, and I felt a lump in my throat.

"Thank you, sir."

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Much better, thank you. That glass of water helped quite a bit." I nodded, as if confirming it to myself. Javert raised his eyebrow again, but said nothing, and got up from his chair. I raised my head, unable to keep my eyes off of him.

_What on earth has gotten over me?_

His hair ribbon was loose and becoming undone. Immediately I jumped up, startling him slightly.

"Whatever is the matter, girl?"

"Y-you-your ribbon," I managed after a moment's hesitation, pointing to his hair. "Can I fix it? I mean, of course, it's really starting to bother me, and I can't have my superior officer looking ridiculous, and… Um, well, you know."

He gave me a look somewhere between curiosity and suspicion, and then waved his hand lamely. "Very well, if you're so keen, do it."

"Right…" I muttered, an embarrassed flush burning my ears.

I reached up and undid the ribbon, biting my lips and placing the ribbon between them so my tongue wouldn't touch it but both my hands would be free. He had a brush on his dresser (meticulous about his hair?) and I began brushing his soft dark hair gently and slowly. The repetitive strokes made me feel sleepy, and I had to jerk myself alert a few times to keep from nodding off.

Finally when I was pleased with my work, I gathered his hair carefully, and, with the help of the brush and black hair ribbon, tied it taught.

"_Thank_ you, Lieutenant," he said firmly, as I had begun brushing the ends of his hair without knowing. I awoke from my daydream with a start, and numbly gave the brush back to him.

"I apologize, sir." I looked down, unable to meet his gaze. I would surely become transfixed, spellbound, by those eyes again. But he lifted my chin with his hand, and I noticed absentmindedly that the skin was smooth and without blemish, and I reluctantly looked at him, though I forced myself to look at his nose.

"What on earth has come over you? Are you still ill?" he asked, as he removed his hand, a concerned tone lacing through his words ever-so-slightly under the harshness.

"No, sir, I'm quite alright. I'm just…" I shook my head. "I'm not quite sure what is wrong with me, to tell the truth. I think I should get back to work. That… that would be best, yes."

He nodded, but kept his eyes on me for a few seconds more, as though disbelieving that I wouldn't faint at that moment. Then he walked off, and I followed.


	15. Darkness

Chapter 15

We walked in silence for the longest time. Dusk was settling over Paris, and the city was a painter's dream; everything was blanketed in warm, soft hues of orange, rose and crimson. Amethyst began to creep out from the Seine, staining the sky like spilled wine on a tablecloth. The river itself was black, as was not unnatural at this time. It didn't have to be very late for the murky waters to become completely mirrored, hiding any secrets from the rest of the world. I never loved that river, but something about it made me have a fearful respect for it.

Most of the townspeople had gone home and were comfortably inside by the time we went on patrol. A few _gamin_ dared to cross our paths, and the wiser older women and men, especially the prostitutes and thieves, were wise enough to hide in the darkness where we could not see them.

I looked straight ahead the entire time. I was much calmer from earlier that day, but my heart still hammered if I even thought of sneaking a glance at Javert.

This was getting ridiculous. I had to learn to keep this bottled in, or this would go nowhere, and I could never repay my debt. I sighed in frustration, rubbing my temples with my finger and thumb.

"Something bothering you, Lieutenant?"

I tried to stay calm. "Just something I need to sort out on my own, sir."

"Very well. Do not let it impede your abilities tonight." More silence. It killed me to be like this; I had preferred what it was like before; me, his faithful subordinate, and him, my strong superior. I suppressed another disdained sigh. Of all that had happened, I didn't understand how this had been the conclusion. It was winter; almost a year had gone by. Small white patches of snow spattered over the streets and the grass and the roofs, but no storm of real significance had threatened yet. I bit my lip to hold in yet another sigh.

We finished rounds, and Javert told me I could go home for the night.

"I won't need you for the rest of the evening; there's only some paperwork that I am required to finish on my own," he said. I nodded, bid him good night, and we parted ways.

* * *

Javert walked home in silence, one hand gripping the truncheon he always carried under his arm. He kept his vision high, and strode proud and alert, even though his senses were being slowly dulled by fatigue.

He stood at the doorway of the prison a few moments, staring down at the key in his hand. He looked to the right of him, at the direction Tsura had departed. He sighed, staring down the street a while, before decidedly turning back to the door, only to be met with a metal rod coming forcefully in contact with his head.


	16. Fear

Chapter 16

Walking home was murderous for my mind. To avoid walking with Javert for more than was necessary, I took the long way home. I sped my stride, wanting to get in the door before the sun went down. My mind raced and images of Javert would not stop harassing me. I moved as though I was trying to run from an absurd idea.

I kicked a stone, and it ricocheted off the wall of a building. I sighed, rubbing my forehead with my palm, exasperated and exhausted. I was being nonsensical in every sense of the word. I rested against the wall for a while, sliding to the ground and looking up at the reddening sky. I buried my head in my knees and tried to calm my heart and stomach down. My heart would not stop pounding and my stomach would not stop twisting. I took a stone and threw it against the wall opposite me. It clinked a few feet away.

This was frustrating; why did I feel so ridiculous when I thought of my superior officer? I wanted… I wanted…

I shook my head, and got up. I could not think like this. Resolutely, I began walking home, and decided that the moment I step through the door I would forget all about this utter nonsense.

When I returned home, the children were playing in the bath, and I looked hurriedly around for Mircea. I was not going to tell him what happened, but I needed his comfort. I walked over to Florica. "Where is Mircea?" I asked.

"You didn't see him?" she wondered, her face registering confusion.

I shook my head. "No, I haven't. Did he tell you where he was going?"

She shrugged. "Three of his friends came to pick him up. I asked what he was doing, and he replied that he had important business to attend to."

"Important business? What of - did he say?"

She looked troubled. "He only said that what he was about to do would bring the community some peace and rid you of sorrow. He seemed concerned for your wellbeing, Tsura; is anything going on?"

I looked at her with wide eyes, and covered my mouth. "I have to go," I cried, and ran as fast as I could out the door.


	17. Fighting

Chapter 17

Javert groaned as he awoke dazedly. He couldn't see clearly, and for a while he wondered why. Then the migraine returned, and he remembered being attacked, letting out another groan.

"Well, well, well, if the sleeping beauty ain't awake too soon," said a gruff voice with a Slavic accent. "Wakey, wakey, dearest Inspector. We wouldn't want you to miss your own goodbye party, now would we?"

Javert squinted, raising his head. He struggled to get up, but realized with a stab of apprehension that he was tied by the wrists and the torso to the wooden chair in which he sat. "What is going on? What have you done to me?" he asked, scowling. "I have no time for games."

Uproarious laughter; Javert discovered that there were more than one person in the room with him. "How many of there are you?" he asked.

"Milosh, how hard did you hit the Inspector?" asked a smaller, nasally voice.

"Not as hard as I could have, Mihai. But I might have caused permanent damage to his skull or his eyes."

"Good job, my friend!" growled another man. _I can take three men_, thought Javert as his vision returned, _although the one called Milosh and the other one seem quite large… but I'll only be able to judge fully once my vision returns._ He blinked rapidly, and saw three large shapes and one lanky form. They all stopped talking, and advanced toward him.

"Looks like our dear Inspector has finally decided to waken from his reverie," said the one known as Mihai.

"Who are you?" asked Javert, trying to keep command in his voice. He cracked his neck and shoulders and swallowed. He could plainly see the three large men, but the slender one kept in the shadows behind them. He remained silent, and Javert could feel the man's eyes burning onto him. "What do you want?"

"You know exactly what we want, Inspector. We want revenge. The misery you've put us and our families through – we need to kill the virus, the demon. The world can only be a happier place with you wiped from existence."

Javert felt his heart begin to pound. Damn, he was in a predicament. The ropes that bound him were thick and tight, and he could barely feel his hands. He knew he wouldn't be able to fight back in his present condition; that blow to the head shook him far more than he would have liked to admit.

Fonso, the smallest of the three thugs, walked up to the man slowly. Something in his hand glimmered in the moonlight that shone through the cracks of the barn's walls. Javert's eyes widened a fracture, and in one quick movement, the large serrated switchblade cut across his chest. Fire burned over his breast and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out. The other men set to work as well, each with a different knife. The pain was intense. Javert couldn't help but yell out in pain. All of a sudden, they stopped. Javert looked up, and saw the thin man walk forward, his foot light and his presence eerily calm.

"I don't know how you did it, but your brainwashing tricks worked splendidly. However, I do not care what she thinks about you, because I know that I can only do the right thing. Killing you is the right thing, Javert."

Javert looked at him, fully confused. Her? Who was he talking about? How on earth did he come to the conclusion that murder is ever at all appropriate? This man was surely insane. He felt the man's eyes on him again, and his exhausted, screaming body felt a momentary surge of adrenaline. He pushed and wrestled against his restraints, but of course to no avail.

"Resistance is useless, Inspector. You should have realized that by now. Even if you did escape, you are severely wounded and outnumbered." Javert bared his teeth in reply, but found he could not say anything.

_No, _he thought,_ I will not succumb._

"Whatever plan you have created, it will fail, boy. You cannot defeat me; you are no formidable opponent, only a child. A naïve little boy. You know nothing of the real world, and you believe things can be solved by violence? How laughingly pathetic."

The figure backhanded Javert so hard across his face that the Inspector saw black stars appear in front of his eyes. He opened his jaw and attempted to crack it back in place.

"You know nothing about me. I understand far more about this miserable place than you. I hear the screams and cries at night, the women begging for mercy, the men crying out in pain, the children wailing in anguish. You are the cause of most of this. You need to be exterminated."

Javert looked up at the man. _You know why we're here, Inspector. Revenge. We're here for revenge._

The hail of fists was, to Javert's shame, not anticipated. The three thugs battered him with their hands at first, but finding that this was not enough, or perhaps not satisfactory, Mihai picked up a piece of old wood and slammed it against Javert's side. The man let out a strangled gasp, and gave Mihai a look of death, earning him a punch across the jaw. Blood covered the dusty ground and stained Javert's uniform. His face glimmered with the red liquid.

He was beginning to wonder if he could really escape this situation when there was a strange shimmer of light out of the corner of his eye. He turned, and, horrified, saw the orange flames that had begun to eat at the floor and wall on his left. The men were leaving through the door. The fire was growing infinitesimally fast, and Javert could only look in terror as it raged around him.

The thin figure stopped a ways a way from the exit, and turned back to the bound man.

"Goodbye, Inspector," he said, then turned, and left.


	18. Salvation by the Lowly

Chapter 18

I had to hurry. I was running out of time. I could see the black smoke billowing thickly now, but it felt like I wasn't getting any closer to Javert.

"Sir, I'm coming for you!" I shouted into the night, looking around desperately for a shortcut of some kind. _I need to get to him, fast. I need to hurry._

I ran full force through a series of small alleyways. It looked like I was falling deeper into the maze, but I knew if I just continued I would make it to the end of the city, and the clearing just in front of the forest. My legs screamed for mercy, my muscles burning like I was taking a bath of fire. But I wasn't the one bathing in flames, and so I ignored the tightness in my chest and my arms and legs. I focused on getting to Javert.

I finally reached the clearing, but I wasn't ready for the sight I beheld. A large barn, larger than several houses in Paris, almost completely engulfed in flames. The heat and brightness of the fire stood stark contrast to the bleak, frigid darkness of the night. Snow was warned for the next morning, and white-grey rings were seen around the moon, wide and large. My breath came out in thick white huffs, as though I was exhaling clouds. I ran to the doorway, my eyes stinging from the smoke and the tears of fear that were threatening to spill. Suddenly a strong hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me back. I looked behind me, frightened and angered at the same time, and my shock only grew when I saw who it was.

"Mircea?" My brother stood motionless. Three large men appeared from the shadows; I recognized them as Mircea's friends, but I could not remember their names. "W-What are you doing here?" I asked.

"We had to do it," he replied slowly, the fire catching reflection in his glasses, making it hard to see his weary eyes. "We had to. For our people."

"No…" I whispered, my eyes growing wide, my face paling. "Please, God, tell me you didn't…"

Mircea bowed his head. The tears began to fall from my eyes, and I squirmed out of his grip. Surprised, he tried to catch me again, but I screamed, "Don't ever touch me again!" and ran into the doorway to Hell.

* * *

The smoke was what was bringing tears to my eyes now. I could barely see a thing, and the thundering noise of the flames taking over the building made the rest of my senses dull severely. If I didn't find Javert fast, we would both be dead.

"Sir? Where are you, Inspector? Javert! Answer me!" I walked slowly, steering clear of the walls. There were no rooms other than the one big room I stood in. Then I heard it; the slightest moan.

"Javert!" I screamed. "I'm coming!" What scared me at that moment was not seeing Javert tied and bound to a chair, but that his head was bowed and his chest did not move. He was not breathing.

I ran to him, but a plank fell in front of me, and I narrowly dodged it. "Shit!" I cried, and leapt over it. I ran to Javert, and brought his face up. Soot smeared over his forehead and cheek. I tried not to look at the blood. I slapped his face once, twice. He didn't make any movement. I shook him, a sob escaping my throat, turning into a choking cough. I pressed my lips to his and exhaled forcefully. When he still didn't move, I did it again, and again. Finally he started coughing violently, and half-opened his eyes, although I noticed the small motion was terribly painful. His eyes were bloodshot. He could barely register my face, let alone where he was.

"Lieutenant…?" he managed, weakly. I nodded my head. "Yes," I said. "Yes, I'm here. I'm here, sir, and I'm going to save you. I'm going to get you out of this place."

"What… what is going on?" he asked. _Oh God, he's barely alive_.

"We're in a burning building," I said, my hands still firmly holding his face, "and I'm getting you out of here. You must stay calm." With that, I wrapped myself over him, grabbing at the ropes that bound his hands and chest to the chair. I kept my body on his protectively, lest any more beams fall. His breathing was stretched thin and ragged, and I knew I needed to hurry. I nearly cried when I got the ropes untied. I pulled him up out of his bindings, and let him lean on me. I wrapped his right arm around my neck and held tightly to his left wrist with my hand, holding his abdomen up with my arm. He could walk well enough, but it would have been impossible for him to do so alone, even though he kept mumbling insistently that he was able enough to manage this journey on his own.

The barn smouldered around us, making terrifying sounds as it lit the black November night with the colours of Hell. I tried to be as careful as I could with Javert's body under the circumstances; I felt wet spots where he must have been cut, and the skin around his torso was ripe with bruises. He moaned in pain when I held him close as a beam fell a few feet away from us. His face contorted in agony, and I was frightened that the mask of Javert had completely slipped off; serious damage must have been done to him, and I worried about the extent of shock dealt by being overwhelmed by his phobia.

I quickened my pace. The flames were soaring and my face felt the angry heat. I pulled Javert through the door, and we collapsed just outside the barn. Javert groaned in pain, but seemed to have regained consciousness with the arrival of the cold, damp air and the freezing wet snow. Panic overwhelmed me, however, for I knew we were far from safe at this distance. Then I heard an awful groaning coming from the building. I looked up and saw the beam on the hay roost was teetering dangerously. Before I could do more than sit up, it cracked, split in two, and one half started falling toward us. It smacked the wall and slowed, but I could only put my body over Javert as the plank crashed into my back. I cried out, pain exploding on the flesh as it burned and on my muscles as they ripped. The plank fell to the snowy earth beside us, quickly becoming smoking ash. I involuntarily began crying, unable to hold in my tears, seeing them plop on Javert's face, smearing the soot and blood. He looked at me with wide eyes, and I sniffled, trying to smile, trying to reassure him wordlessly that I was fine. He seemed to have found strength, for he slipped out from under me and pulled me to the trees. He took off the shirt of my uniform and put snow over my seared flesh. I cried out, and he put a hand over my mouth as he continued to administer the snow. He ripped my shirt and wrapped up the wound as well as he could manage. Then he turned my head by the chin and kissed me. It was not quick, but it didn't last as long as I would have hoped.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said, his voice clouding over with emotions. I sat dead still, my eyes wide in shock at the kiss and at the entire display of emotion. He sounded choked. "Thank you."

I felt overwrought, and pulled him into a hug, sobbing. He didn't move to hug me back, but his head pressed against the nook of my neck. "I thought I was going to lose you," I murmured. "I thought you were going to die and I was never going to see you again, and it's my fault entirely."

He pulled away, looking at me cautiously. "What do you mean by that?"

I brought my face to my hands, crying. "M-my b-brother! It was my brother. He… oh _God_, he did this!"

I looked up again, wiping my eyes, only to see Javert's wide with shock. "This was your brother's doing?" he said slowly, his face covered by his hair as he looked at the snow.

"Sir?"

Suddenly we were interrupted. "Lieutenant, get away from that man!" I turned, and seeing my brother's face could feel only anguish.

"Halt! Police!" I looked over and saw five policemen, wielding blades, truncheons and muskets. I return my gaze to my brother, but he's running, along with his friends. One is shot in the back and falls down, dead. His friend attacks the officer with his own truncheon after a scuffle, but another officer stabs him in the stomach, and he falls. The other soldiers run into the woods after my brother and the third man. Cries and shouts are heard, and the soldiers return with the two men, bound by shackles on their wrists. Javert covered my eyes and turned my head away. "You don't have to see this," he said softly. "You've had enough excitement for one day. You need to rest." I lay my head against his chest, feeling his breathing and listening to the slow rhythm of his heart. Snow began to fall delicately, but quickly the ground was covered in a sheet of white.

"You n-need… you n-n-need to…" I hiccupped, and began sobbing again, and he patted my head softly. "You need to see a doctor…" I finally managed. I felt him nod slowly. "I'll do that," he said quietly. "I'll see a doctor." I could tell that he would only being _seeing_ the doctor when the doctor came for _me_. Saying my back felt like I was lying on hot coals covered in knife blades was an understatement. It hurt to breathe. My breath was strained and ragged, and I clung to Javert's uniform. But then I felt the wetness spread, and I looked down and saw dark red staining his uniform. There was so much of it that it seeped through onto my uniform and my cheek. I looked at him, horrified.

"It's a flesh wound," he muttered, but I could tell it was causing him a great deal of pain. I felt terrible; here he was, cut and bruised and possibly worse and _he _was comforting _me_. I took off his uniform jacket gently, and he hissed out a breath, wincing. The shirt underneath was cut through numerous times and covered in blood. I removed it hurriedly, but I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding when I saw that the slashes on his chest were, like he said, superficial. "They wanted to cut me with a flourish," he said, a mirthless and bitter laugh escaping his throat. "The jacket is made of thicker material than they thought, however, and their daggers weren't of the largest size or highest quality." I laughed in relief, ripping up his jacket (which took little to no effort) and taking the remains of mine, pressing them against his chest. He winced at the pain, but I could tell that it would work. He put his hands over mine, and looked straight into my eyes as he pressed harder. They were clouded in pain, and cold with rage, but he seemed to feel better looking at me, so I returned his gaze. Snowflakes attached to his eyelashes, softening his face.

"Are you two alright?" an officer suddenly appeared in front of us. We looked up at him; it was the officer that had stabbed Mircea's friend, for I saw a spray of blood on his uniform. I tried focusing on his pale face instead.

"My superior is severely wounded, sir. He needs immediate medical assistance," I said. He glanced at Javert's chest, and I was surprised that his skin could lose even more colour. He nodded blankly, and ran off to get help.

Javert coughed. "You should have told him about your back. We need to focus on that; your wounds are far more severe than mine." I shook my head.

"No, sir, you need help first." My tears and the blood on my face had dried, but my hands were bloody, so it would have been useless to wipe my face, and I didn't want to stop pressing against his cuts, although the bleeding had stopped.

We sat in the snow for a good while, looking from the ground to each other and back. Finally five officers came, followed closely by what was obviously a doctor, and they helped us to our feet. I felt Javert's fingers ghost over my hand as they separated us, and I took one glance back as we headed to the city, looking at the crumbling building and the red-stained snow.


	19. Recovery

Chapter 19

I sat on Javert's bed at the infirmary, watching him sleep, observing his breathing although the nurses told me he was going to be fine, although he would gain more scars. I placed my hand gingerly on his breast, feeling it rise and fall. I smoothed out his bandages and stroked his loose hair. Patches of his dressings, which covered his chest, were a red-brown colour, but the wounds were healing, and he had stopped bleeding hours ago. The entirety of my back was covered in lotions and gauze, and the full length of my torso was wrapped in bandages. The pain had diminished substantially, but they wanted me to stay for an extended amount of time, to make sure infections or complications did not occur.

I wanted to cry as I looked at his face, seeing how deep breaths pained him. His eyelids fluttered, but he did not waken. I combed his hair with my fingers, and pretended not to notice the group of nurses whispering and looking in our direction. I just wanted to focus on Javert; I wanted to protect him from everything. I felt so rotten for letting him go through with this, but at the same time, I couldn't stop thinking about my brother. He acted like I knew why he did this, but I didn't. He wouldn't kill someone just for revenge, would he? Was my brother that kind of person? I couldn't comprehend. My brother wasn't a murderer. I knew he hated Javert as much as a soul could hate another soul, but murder? I couldn't imagine Mircea doing that. I felt the tears welling up, truly believing that I no longer knew him. I felt devastated; my family was officially unravelled, and I couldn't find the strength to pick up the strings. The man I care for is in a hospital, and the brother I love is in jail.

I looked out the window above his bed. The light of the sun shone in, sending rays of white down on us. I closed the curtain of the window as well as the one circling the bed, not wanting for Javert to be disturbed by the light or the gossiping nurses. But the motion in the bed must have startled him, for his eyes shot open, and I thought I heard him gasp.

I looked down at him, resting my hands gently on his shoulders. "Stay down, sir. We don't want you to reopen your wounds." He looked up at me, and his brows were furrowed as though confused.

"Where are we, Lieutenant?" he asked me.

"We are in the hospital, sir," I said. "Your injuries were worse than anticipated, but not by much. The blade was serrated, which ripped the flesh considerably, but it did not penetrate deeply enough for you to sustain any organ damage. The doctors said you'll be fine. You are not suffering from infections, and your wounds are already healing." I tried to smile, but telling this pessimistic news to my superior made me want to cringe. I looked down when I added, "You'll have permanent scars, however." It was terrible that he would have a physical reminder of that night for the rest of his life.

He looked at the curtained window. "Draw the curtains," said Javert. "I want to see the sun. My dreams were far too dark for my liking, and I would like some light." I gladly complied, and the warm rays splashed on my face. Javert looked at me, and put a hand to my cheek. "Thank you," he said. I tried to keep myself from flushing, but I could not keep from looking at him warmly. A small smile played on my lips, and I managed to nod. He brought his hand back to his chest.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked. "You have some colour back in your face…"

"Yes, I am," he replied. "I feel quite awake now." He paused, then added with a sly smirk, "Despite the fact that you snore like an old bloodhound."

I scrunched up my mouth, looking at him indignantly. "I do _not_."

Javert's grin grew. "You should hear yourself; it was almost remarkable if it wasn't so alarming. It was comforting to know _you _could sleep so soundly after the other night, but you only served to do a fantastic job of keeping me awake for the majority of the evening. It was incredibly irritating, and I find it quite surprising that I was able to get any sleep at all."

"I would hit you if you weren't so injured."

"Threat of insubordination, Lieutenant? You think that's wise?"

"Shut up." I watched him with pained eyes. It was so hard to calm myself and stay happy with my superior in such a state. "You're an idiot."

He sobered up, and looked at me. "What is bothering you so much, girl?"

I stared into his lovely eyes. "You nearly died, sir. You were severely wounded, not only from being beaten, but from lacerations. You were bleeding so much. You were put into a terrifying situation where you nearly were killed by your phobia. All of that… it's all my fault. I don't know wh-why… what I did to provoke my brother… or why…"

Javert leaned forward, studying me. "Never say something like that again. It wasn't your fault. You didn't know."

"But—"

"Don't be selfish, Lieutenant. I gave you an order."

I fell silent. "Sorry," I murmured. I looked at him carefully, and his gaze softened. He even smiled at me, and it was the least I could do to smile back. He started moving, and his face registered that he was uncomfortable. I quickly brought him up, carefully, and placed pillows behind him to keep him steady.

"So, how long are we going to be here?" he asked me.

"They only need you to stay another week, but the damage done on my back was severe, and I'll have to stay the rest of the month." Javert made a motion to turn me around, so I quickly added, "They want to keep the dressings on for a while, until they are sure there is no risk of infection. It's best if you didn't look." Javert nodded.

"I can visit," he replied lamely, turning his gaze to the window.

"It isn't necessary sir," I whispered, although my heart pounded. His mouth tightened, so I added softly, "I would appreciate it, though."

My superior nodded again. "Does it hurt?"

I shook my head. "I can't feel anything." He turned to me then. I blushed; the sun that warmed his face gave him an ethereal glow. He placed his hand over mine, gently, wordlessly. I looked down at it, biting my lip.

"I expect an even stronger effort when you come back to work, Lieutenant," I heard suddenly. His voice was strong and firm; my Javert had returned. "You'll have had enough rest, and we'll likely be behind during your absence. You will need to work even harder than before." I looked up at him. His dangerous smirk was there, showing a fang-like canine. I swallowed hard, then nodded eagerly.

"Yes!" I cried, smiling.


	20. Meet the Family

**To all of my readers, to give my whole-hearted thanks in giving me such tremendous support, I will let you decide the ending! Of course, I will not tell you; no one other than me and my beta xXxMusexXx will know the final outcome before it happens, but you all have the chance to vote! I will let you know presently that I am not necessarily partial to all possible outcomes, but if all of my readers ask of me the same answer, I will obviously give it to you. I will list the possible endings - but! do not think that you are limited to these. If you have any amazing ideas you want to share that isn't on the list, or elaborate on one of the options given, go for it!**

**Here they are, in no order of preference:**

**1. Javert and Tsura live happily ever after (marriage, or some kind of romantic relationship)**

**2. Tsura leaves Javert for her family (details are loose - you may give them but the final decision will be up to me)**

**3. Tsura leaves the country to save herself**

**4. Mircea forces Tsura away from Javert**

**5. Tsura dies **

**6. Tsura remains on the force as Javert's subordinate, but nothing happens between them**

**I am going to say now, no matter how many votes I get, I will not kill Javert. If everyone votes for that, you will get a wholly unsatisfactory ending to this fanfiction. I have a feeling if I did that (I never would want to) that I would get burned at the stake.**

**Message me with your vote so that everything is kept anonymous and no one but the author and editor knows the ending!**

**Remember that reviews keep me alive!**

**

* * *

**

Chapter 20

I was just finishing the hospital lunch when Javert walked in. He must have just arrived from the prison; he was still dressed in uniform. Some of the younger nurses ogled him, gossiping in whispers. He smiled down at me and I thought my heart was going to explode.

"You seem to be doing better, Lieutenant."

I nodded. "I'm resting most of the time. Sleeping does wonders." It had been three days since he had been discharged. So far he had kept his promise and visited me at sporadic moments during the day. The visits were torturously brief and I ached to see him again the moment he left. I still hated the fact I was behaving this way to Javert, but I had stopped trying to fight it the night he kissed me…

The night he…

"Lieutenant, are you alright? Your face suddenly turned very red. Are you suffering from a fever?" Javert's voice snapped me from my thoughts. He moved to check my temperature but I scooted away.

"I'm fine, sir!" I cried, laughing rather awkwardly. He looked at me, slightly confused and slightly annoyed. I stopped laughing. "You know, sir, I have never seen you in civilian clothes. Is that uniform the only outfit you own?" The suddenness and arbitrariness of my words caught him off-guard, and a pink stain rose to his cheeks at my question.

"Of course not, you ridiculous woman. Whenever I visit it is always in between shifts or directly after a shift; there is no point for me to change what I am wearing in either circumstance." It seemed like he was going to continue, so I remained silent, but when he didn't say any more, I asked tentatively, "Will I ever see you in anything other than that sodding uniform?" The flush on his cheeks grew and deepened, and he looked at me wildly. "I'd appreciate if you could tone down your language, Lieutenant. There is no need for you to see me dressed in anything other than this." I had the decency to blush and I muttered a small "sorry" with my head bowed.

Javert sighed. "Well, I see that our conversation has taken a turn for the worse, hm?" He glanced down at his pocket watch. "I must leave now, anyway. The Gendarmerie is gathering, and very important military figures are visiting from other areas of France that Commandant Taylor wishes me to meet. I am sure that he only wants the best impression made from our prison, and he seems to only trust me and a few other men to do that job. Rest for now, Lieutenant. I'll return later on, tomorrow evening at the latest." He then turned on his heel and left without another word.

I tried not to be regretful of my comment and, suddenly feeling very tired, went quickly to sleep.

My dreams were painful. My brother kept reappearing, sometimes trying to kill Javert, sometimes trying to kill me. He was crying, then he was laughing. I began to cry when I saw him covered in soot and blood... his blood.

"Lieutenant," said a voice, soft and strong, in the fog. I clung to that voice, and found myself in the hospital bed. Javert's face was dark and grim. I put a hand to my cheek – I realized my tears were not in my dream. I quickly wiped them away. "Ah, sorry," I mumbled, giving him a weak smile, "I must have dozed off."

"Lieutenant," repeated Javert, his voice a little louder. I stopped with a small gasp, looking into his eyes. The grey was more apparent than before. "Don't." I was silent; he was going to say more. "Don't force yourself." I clasped a hand over my mouth and clamped my eyes shut, breathing heavily and shakily for a few moments. I could not break in front of Javert. I clutched at the sheets and smiled at him, finally.

"Don't worry, sir. I'm perfectly fine now. It was simply a nightmare; nothing to fret over." Luckily the topic of conversation was soon changed, and we spent hours on end talking about work, and then about idle things. I didn't know Javert could speak so… normally. He still retained a prim and proper air, and we kept the conversation terribly starched, but it was an improvement. He left when we noticed the sun had long since gone to bed. Javert quickly and hastily made his departure, and I slept a little more peacefully than before.

The next few days were uneventful, and the sun shone when I could finally be released from the hospital. Javert had come, dutifully, to pick me up. "I can't have you risking your life on the streets in broad daylight – or worse, some innocent bystander's," he had said to me when I spoke about my return. I gave a snarky reply and we got into another argument. Today, however, he seemed almost happy – that is to say, he quickly signed the release forms, and put out his arm, looking away with a small cough. I looked at him quizzically, and my superior's head whipped around when I made no movement. He saw me standing there, staring at him oddly, and he seemed to grow aggravated immediately. He took my hand and brought my arm under his.

"Hold onto me, for God's sake. Knowing you, if I leave you to walk without assistance you'll be back here before we manage to travel a street." His stern face made me want to smile, and I felt my ears grow hot at this close physical contact. We walked slowly, and I stared ahead, though I could feel Javert's eyes on me every once in a while. I never wanted to stop walking; not if it meant being so close to him.

We finally made it to my house. Javert's eyes widened a fraction, and he looked confused, but shook it off. I wondered what had startled him. Was it the state of my humble abode?

I entered quietly, but was quickly greeted by the children, who were ecstatic at my arrival. They screamed and cheered and Javert looked on, completely shocked into silence. I whirled Loiza around, happy that I could see his face again after so long. The other children danced around me and tugged at my uniform, which Javert had brought so that I could change. Why was my boss just standing there, ridiculously? Had he never seen a happy reunion before in his life?

"Glad to see you," said Florica, smiling warmly.

"Mm!" I replied with a smile and a nod. I had told Javert not to mention Mircea; they did not know what had happened and I did not want them finding out.

I spent time with the children, begging Javert to stay. He kept refusing, but meeting Florica's eyes, agreed on the condition I rest and go to work the next day. I agreed. It was not even that long a time, I had argued. He told me not to push it.

Finally I started feeling tired, and excused myself. Javert followed.

"W-what?" I stuttered, a blush rising to my cheeks. I had only noticed him after I had removed my jacket and boots and was climbing into bed. He walked over to me and helped me with the bedsheets, which had somehow become incredibly tangled. He covered me, treating me gently as he pulled the blankets over my body.

"Really," he said, so softly I almost didn't hear, "you're so graceless."

I was about to have a comeback, but I was overcome by a wave of exhaustion, and quickly fell into the world of dreams.

* * *

Javert walked back into the main room, and took his hat from the shelf, giving a slight bow to Florica, who returned with a nod of her head. He was trying not to show his increasing discomfort at the fact she _wouldn't stop smiling_, but he had to leave. Tsura was resting and he had no business staying. Suddenly his hand felt mysteriously empty. One of the children, the eldest girl, had snatched his hat from his fingers and had put it on her head.

Javert stared, wide-eyed. The children started fighting over it in a dialect that Javert recalled in a distant, whispering memory but could not understand. Finally the eldest boy, decisively, grabbed the hat and put it on, mimicking Javert's military-like stance perfectly. The other kids were in awe. Javert was silent.

The boy wearing the hat grabbed his brother, giving him an order. The younger male quickly left the room, coming back with two strands of twine. He tied the hands of his other siblings. Javert smirked - so the boy was arresting them. He approved of the efficient manner in which he did this, quick and concentrating.

The boy returned to his older brother, who had not moved from his spot. His arms were now crossed and his face was severe. The hat-wearer was silent. His face grew increasingly uncomfortable, and indecisive. He was at a loss. He paced a little bit, and then hurried up to Javert.

"Ce voi I a da as meu următor ordine?" asked the boy. Javert looked at him stupidly. The boy repeated his question more urgently.

"He's asking what he should order next," said the woman Tsura addressed as Florica. Javert nodded, and knelt down to the boy's eye level.

"Criminals belong in prison cells! You must bring these terrible creatures to the dark cells of justice, where they belong!" He grinned at the boy, who grinned back, but a sudden sob broke the moment. Javert looked up, startled, and saw the youngest crying horribly, leaning against her sister. She was mumbling something rather incoherently. Florica was responding, but not in Romanian. "Don't worry, my flower. He didn't mean that, he was joking around. No, my sweet, he doesn't think you're evil. No, no, he doesn't. You didn't do anything wrong."

Javert's face was grim as he stood. He was deciding between leaving and going to the child. He didn't know how to comfort anyone, especially a toddler, and he regretted staying any longer than simply dropping Tsura at the door. With a sigh, he walked over to the girl, putting a large, warm hand on her head. She flinched and looked at him fearfully. He gave her an apologetic smile.

Tentatively, she reached out, and, with small, pudgy hands, grabbed at his sideburns and pulled. Javert made a surprised, pained sound at the back of his throat, tears stinging his eyes. He stared at the child, wide-eyed, and when he saw her determined glare that reminded him so much of Tsura, he began to laugh. Laugh! Something he couldn't remember doing in years, if at all.

He gave the girl a peck on the forehead, picked his hat off the eldest lad's head, ruffling his hair, and left with a tip of his hat, his coattails fluttering behind him.

Florica looked at the doorway, still opened but empty. She could no longer hear Javert's footfalls. She smiled again, realizing two things to herself: one, this man was mysterious, and difficult to describe, but not evil or bad; and two, she had no reason to worry about Tsura while she was in his presence.


	21. Unexpected

**Author's Note: Okay! So, firstly, I owe my thanks to xXxMusexXx for, well, being my muse. I mean really, that girl is amazing. She has this wicked Wicked (har har) fanfiction that _apparently_ everyone's going wild for. I dunno, you'll have to check it out for yourselves.**

**Also, I've gotten a grand total of two votes, and so far it's a unanimous decision (still not telling though). If you want your preferred ending to win, VOTE. Seriously guys, I'm no mind reader. Also, it lets me know that people are actually reading this when there are reviews and messages in my email inbox. The voting will officially end with chapter 25, chapter 30 if I actually get votes.**

**... That inbox feels like a sandy desert. Make it into a lush garden, guys. :D I'll crank out my chapters much faster, which is what you want because I can't guarantee squat over NaNoWriMo but I have quite a few chapters prepared for writing.**

* * *

Chapter 21

Javert heard nothing except for the slow, steady ticking of the grandfather clock at the far end of the room and the hurried scribbling of his quill. He was intent on his work, as always.

Well, for the most part.

Every so often, his mind would begin to wander; this was so foreign to Javert that he jumped when he realized what he was doing. He wasn't quite sure why, but he couldn't but he couldn't concentrate on his work for more than 20 minutes without going off into a dreamland. This scared Javert.

What was all the more terrifying was the subject of Javert's reveries.

Javert put down his quill decisively. He couldn't concentrate on two things at once, so he would deal with what was plaguing his mind and get it over with. He laced his fingers together and propped his elbows on the desk, leaning his mouth onto his hands. Tsura... That woman. Why was he thinking about her even when she wasn't in the room?

He breathed deeply, and closed his eyes. He could see her too clearly for his liking. He had a brief, hazy feeling he shouldn't be thinking of her when she wasn't around, but he brushed it off.

Had he made a mistake letting her on the force, and his subconscious was regretting it? Had he made an error? Impossible. Things had worked out favourably with the lieutenant around.

Javert pursed his lips - things had also become much more stressful, much more difficult. It was as if simple tasks could not be handled or followed properly anymore.

Javert bit his lower lip, the muscles in his fingers tightening. He began to think back to major events that had passed since the Lieutenant had joined the force.

The incident with the boy and the goose –

_she had leapt on him to get the bird, and he barely complained_–

the alley and the thugs –

_he had... he had been worried about her. She had been bleeding_–

the cart accident –

_he had sucked the splinters out of her bloody hands_–

the boy who had stolen fruit from the poor grocer–

_she had acted like a real officer of the law, without Javert's aid or even his presence_–

the fire...

_She had saved him, risking her own life._

_He had_...

Javert felt his ears and cheeks grow unbearably hot.

He hadn't even fully realized the event that had passed that night until the morning after, when he saw Tsura worrying over him. She hadn't mentioned her back until he had asked, and she kept trying to brush it off as nothing. Her face… She had been crying. The warm glow of the sun illuminated her silhouette.

The adrenaline...

Javert's breathing quickened.

He had felt a surge of adrenaline. That was why. That was the only logical reason for what he had done.

Javert sighed, trying to wipe the memory from his mind. He couldn't think about it; he had never done anything rash in his life, and no matter what circumstances he had had to face before, he had never before done something so ridiculous and inappropriate. He could not keep the lieutenant from his mind, however, so he decided to change what he was thinking about. He focused on her first official day.

Taylor's face immediately came to mind, and Javert's teeth gritted. The man was honourable, but Javert just could not like the man, no matter how much his attitude was compatible with Javert's own. The way Taylor had acted had been understandable, if not a tad forward. But Javert, as much as he could say certain things to his commander and walk away without a scratch, he could not dictate the man's methods with new officers. Javert smiled inwardly at the memory of Tsura from back then, as he compared her to the woman he called his lieutenant now. She had certainly improved in attitude and behaviour. She no longer acted like the gamin she was raised as. Perhaps Javert had performed a miracle and saved the girl from rotting in a cold, damp cell...

Suddenly Javert felt very sick, and wiped that thought from his mind, with a strange, involuntary shiver.

"Inspector!" The suddenness and loudness of the voice startled Javert out of his seat. He barely managed to regain composure as the door flew open and Tsura appeared, looking breathless. "Sir, sorry I'm late." Javert looked up at her, and quickly stood, clearing his throat rather loudly.

"I'll let you off this time, Lieutenant, but I better not see it happen again." Tsura nodded to him, and Javert felt himself calming. He had no idea why he put himself through that nonsense of trying to figure out his _feelings _towards the woman. He understood now; it had shaken his soul that he did not feel animosity to her as he might've. But there wasn't anything that should cause Javert to worry. He still didn't understand everything, but he decidedly gave himself the explanation that she had saved his life, and therefore, it would be only natural for his antipathy to fade.

Tsura stared at her commanding officer for some time, making Javert feel increasingly nervous. What did she want? She looked like she was about to say something, so Javert just walked over till he faced her, and stood silent. Whatever she had to say would likely be important, seeing as how this incident involved her brother. Javert imagined her interrogating him for answers and held in an exasperated sigh.

The silence was unnerving.

Javert brought up his arm, and opened his mouth to speak, but just as he did so Tsura ran the few feet that separated the two and wrapped her trembling arms around her boss. Javert's breath hitched in his throat and his eyes went wide. _What on earth...?_

She pressed her head against his wide chest, her breathing sporadic; she sounded as though she was trying to hold back tears. Javert wondered if Tsura had experienced the same thing he had – remembering every day since she had joined. He let her dig her fingers into his back, grabbing at the fabric of his jacket.

He had no idea what else to do. After a while, he realized she wasn't planning on letting go, and so he tapped her on the shoulder. "Lieutenant, if you wouldn't mind letting go and giving me a chance to breathe? The paperwork piled high on your desk seems more in need of your attention than I."

She backed off suddenly, her face stained pink. She mumbled an apology and went to her desk, mumbling something under her breath. Javert's eyebrow raised. What had gotten into her? But he said nothing, and returned to his seat. Tsura started work immediately, and Javert did as well, but after a while, he stole a glance at her. She was completely absorbed in the documents. He smiled then, without realizing.

He also didn't realize the Commandant was standing outside the door, witness to everything.

* * *

Commandant Taylor walked past the office of his employee, when he stopped abruptly. Javert... Had Javert just eased out of a hug, before his eyes? Was this possible? And was he looking uncomfortable, as a young man might around the object of his affections? This wasn't possible. Taylor pondered a moment. He realized that Javert's attitude had been changing, very slightly, ever since that gypsy girl was brought onto the force. It wasn't enough for anyone but Taylor himself to notice, and even then it took him a while, but he did. The Commandant walked hastily to his office, deep in thought. He decided resolutely to keep an eye on the girl. He could not risk losing Javert.


	22. A Small Gift

Chapter 22

I looked out the window as I combed my hair. The air outside, as well as inside, was crisp and cold, and a heavy blanket of snow had fallen over Paris. I marked December 11th off on the calendar and, as I swept the room, and covered Florica in a heavier blanket when I saw her shivering, I thought of Christmas. I knew that the kids would all hope for something; I had old necklaces I had stolen a few years ago for the girls, a quill and ink and blank notebook for Walther that I had been given when I started work but I never used, and a carving knife for Loiza (he saw a man carving blocks of wood and wanted to try it). I had nothing for Florica, but she told me that it would do no good to give her anything.

"What could I wear? No one would see me. I am a useless old woman, and you taking care of my family is all I could ever hope for," she had said.

So I leaned against the broom handle, pondering. A thought suddenly came to me – Javert! I knew how he would act if I asked him any questions about the holiday; considering it was largely a religious time, and Javert was not, to my recollection, religious in any sense of the word, I might be treading on thin ice enough as it is, thinking of this.

I quickly changed into my uniform, donned the winter coat I would now be forced to wear as a defence against the bitter cold, and I trekked to work. The frost bit at my cheeks and by the time I entered the building I had natural rouge.

I dusted off my jacket and hung it up, wiping my boots on the carpet. "Good morning, sir," I said, going to my place beside him and working in silence.

"What's gotten you into this mood?" asked the Inspector. "Not that I'm complaining at the fact you're actually doing work."

I was silent, concentrating on my work. After a while, I said, "I'm taking up another job."

I could feel the mood shift in the room. "Pardon?"

"There are debts I need to pay. I'm being employed here to pay off my debts to you, but I actually need money to survive these problems. I'm taking up a job during evenings, so for the next little while I won't be on night patrol with you. My shift will end at normal hours and the rest of my day will be spent at my other job."

After a spell, Javert simply said, "Very well," and we continued with the rest of our work day in silence.

* * *

I looked around before entering the bakery, somehow feeling certain Javert would catch me. The bell above the door jingled. "Good afternoon!" came a friendly voice from behind the counter. "And what can I do for a pretty young miss like you?"

"I need, um, a job." I said plainly. He blinked at me.

"Seems you have one already, miss; you are wearing a police uniform."

"Yes I know, but I need another one," I murmured uncomfortably, shifting my weight on the balls of my feet, looking away. "I mean, it's almost Christmas, see, and I don't have enough money, and—" I shot my face up. God was I grateful no one else was here. "I promise to work very hard! I'll do my best and I'll do whatever you need me to do without complaint!"

"I would hope so," chuckled the baker. I lowered my head, and his expression turned sober. "You really need a job?"

I nodded.

"Who?"

"Pardon?"

The baker smiled. "A lover?"

I felt my face burn. "N-n-n-n-no! It isn't like that! He's just – I mean we – and no, he would never—"

The baker laughed, waving his hand. "Alright, it's alright. Just come here at six tomorrow and we'll see how useful you are. Then, if you prove yourself, you can have a job."

I smiled, and thanked him generously before leaving. This could work! I skipped out with a smile on my face.

* * *

I had been working for ten days. December 21st was marked off on my calendar. Currently I was sweeping the floor, but I had stopped to let my mind drift a while.

I wasn't being paid much, but any money was better than none at all. I wondered what gift would suit Javert's tastes. Neither one of us were very extravagant. He never indulged.

My head rose as I realized… "Except…"

Whenever a difficult case was solved, or he worked particularly hard on something and succeeded well, he would take a moment to pinch snuff. That was the only indulgence I've ever seen Javert give himself.

"Perfect!" I cried. I finished early that night.

* * *

Javert was on patrol, alone again since the 12th, and he let his mind wander briefly. He wondered where his lieutenant was going nights. Usually they would walk the cold streets together, and usually in silence, but, Javert was loathe to admit, it was a very comfortable silence. Not like the ones he experienced now. Before he had met Tsura his patrols were calming because he was allowed to take time with himself. At first he hated how the lieutenant took that away from him, but now he was discomforted by the fact she was not by his side.

For the 11th night in a row.

Javert shook his head, trying to think of something else. As he did so, something – or rather someone – caught his eye. A dusty Tsura, a grin a mile wide on her face, was carrying trash out from the baker's. She was perspiring lightly, the Inspector could tell, for she glistened softly in the moonlight. She wiped her brow with a pleased sigh and hurried back inside. Javert was struck dumb, staring at the door for a few seconds before catching himself and continuing his stroll. Why on earth was she working at the baker's? Was the situation with her family really that poor? Javert sighed.

Best not to think about frustrating topics if one could avoid them.

And why did Javert have the foreboding feeling that he couldn't?

* * *

The twenty-fifth. I sighed. The big day. I could only hope that everything could go according to plan.

I looked at my present. I had wrapped it in brown paper and tied it with string. I thought it looked pretty. I put it in my pocket and grabbed the cake. The baker, in his kindness had given me a small cake, big enough for two people to share. He touched his nose when I asked why he gave it to me and I thought it best not to inquire further, so I accepted it with a bow. He told me that he did not require my services anymore, and patted my shoulder when I left. I told him I would visit again.

Walking into the office, my heart started beating wildly. I was filled with sudden doubts, and was about to turn to leave when Javert walked in. I nearly smashed my nose on his broad chest.

"Ah! Sir!"

"And what are we doing, Lieutenant? What is that in your hand? The box?"

I smiled at him and backed up so he could enter. "I thought that, because it's Christmas, we could have a cake to celebrate." Javert visibly twitched, and I frowned. Did I do something wrong?

"No thank you, Lieutenant. I'm not a person who can handle sweet things." I sighed. Of course not. I put the cake on my desk, feeling disappointment wash over me. I imagine he'd reject the gift as well. Javert looked at me a moment, then sighed. "I'll take a bite of it. Will that please you?"

I looked up at him. He sighed exasperatingly. "I can't have my Lieutenant moping about. You need to work and I know you well enough to know you won't if I don't do this silly thing. Get me a fork."

I did as was told and he opened the box. "Strawberries, Lieutenant?"

I froze. "Erm, the baker wanted to make me a special treat and told me it had to be a surprise, so I didn't argue."

"At least it isn't chocolate."

I sighed. Dodged a bullet there, Tsura. I returned with the fork, and watched, cheeks burning, as Javert took a small forkful into his mouth. He licked his lips and I bit mine. "It's… not terrible," he said after a while.

"Sir, um, the corner of your mouth?"

He flushed slightly, looking at me briefly before turning away and addressing the matter with his tongue. He looked at me with an eyebrow raised and I nodded my head. He pushed the box toward me. "Take the rest. It's too sweet."

"But sir…"

"You deserve it," said Javert, a tad quickly. His ears turned pink and my face turned red, and he immediately added, "Although you've been lacking in your duties lately and daydreaming far too much. But, rather, you've been working hard. I commend you."

I turned my face down. "Erm, thank you, sir." A real compliment from him! I couldn't stop the smile from playing on my lips. I had courage that I needed now. "Sir, close your eyes and put out your hands.

"Lieutenant, this isn't the time for games –"

"Please just do it." He looked at me, his eyes widened slightly, and I sighed. "Please?" He pursed his lips and his eyes gave me a silent warning but he did what I asked him anyway. When I thought his eyes were closed for real, I gently placed the present in his hands. He opened his eyes, surprised at first at the new weight he felt, but then looking wary.

"A gift, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir, a gift."

"This is not a requirement. Really, it's too much…"

"I wanted to do this."

He was silent. For a while he stared at it and then he sighed, slowly unwrapping it, taking great pains not to destroy the pathetic paper. His hands froze when it opened and he saw the ornate snuffbox. His eyes widened.

"Lieutenant…" He shook his head. "Did you…"

"I bought it," I said defensively. "I got another job to pay for it. I'm trying to convince you I'm not a thief anymore."

"You shouldn't have wasted your money on frivolous things…"

"It isn't frivolous. I see you with snuff all the time. It's useful."

"You really shouldn't…"

"If you don't want it—!"

"I never said that." He looked at me, and his ears burned. I was shocked at this. He looked uncomfortable. Finally he murmured, "Thank you." He inspected the rosewood snuffbox, tracing his fingers over the silver accents. He licked his lips, partially from the cream from earlier that I was sure he could still taste, and partially for another reason I wasn't quite sure of. He placed it in his desk.

"Come on, it's time for rounds."

* * *

Javert was silent the entire walk, but Tsura was babbling enough for the both of them. He smiled to himself, however, because she was by his side again, keeping pace easily with his long strides. Suddenly Tsura stopped and Javert looked at her, hoping she wasn't going to ask if he was listening. He was just feeling soothed by the sound of her voice and was paying attention to other things.

"Look at that," was what he heard her whisper, however, and he followed her gaze to a simple necklace in a shop window. A thin silver chain, with a pearl drop at the end. Nothing fancy, but wondrously elegant. She sighed smilingly. She saw her reflection in the window, and manoeuvred herself so that it looked like she was wearing it. She pulled her hair back and flushed. "If I could wear something so beautiful…" She shook her head and gave it one last smile, walking ahead of Javert. He followed, but took one last look behind his shoulder. He didn't know if he had meant to look at the shop name, or if he had meant to remember it, but he found he did.

Later that night, when Tsura had gone home and Javert was sitting quietly in his office, the only light source a candle beside him, he took out the snuff box and turned it over in his hand. He felt every inch of it and brought it to his nose. It smelled good as well. He placed it on his desk and looked at it wearily. "Really, Lieutenant, what am I going to do about you…"


	23. Insanity

Chapter 23

"Pine away, pine away, pine away… Sing a beautiful melody, she's never coming home.  
Stand on the edge of the pier and you'll fall into the water and drown.  
Sit in front of the fireplace and you'll burn until you're charred bones.  
Stand out in the snow and you'll stiffen before you breathe your last.  
Pine away, pine away, pine away… She made her choice, she chose him, and she's never coming back."

Mircea hummed to himself, rocking back and forth, his arms limply hugging his legs. He looked shiftily around his cell. He began to whimper, then his face twisted in anger. "She chose wrong, she chose him, she chose wrong, she chose him… Inspector over brother, monster over man, bile over blood. She made her choice. She made her choice! Why, why, why, why, why? I'm her brother! I'm her brother, I'm her brother. No, no, no. She isn't alive anymore. Not to me. Not to me. Not to _me_. I'll die in here and she'll forget Mircea, did she ever remember Mircea, 'cause Mircea remembers her, oh yes he does oh yes he does, does he ever…" He laughed to himself, quietly, as though he had a great joke but he didn't want to tell anyone.

"Play the pipe organ, and dance to the song of death.  
Death remembers your face; your father was his best friend.  
They went out drinking together till the wee hours of the morning.  
But the Inspector crashed the party."

His humming became more violent, as did the rocking. He slammed his back against the wall, grunting every time but not stopping the humming. "The noise, the incessant noise… his smug face! Even when we had him, even when he was bleeding, even when he was forced to look up at _me _he was still so goddamn condescending! He killed me. He killed my whole family, and he doesn't care. And she took him… She saved him and she was in his arms and they were bleeding together and he kissed her! He _kissed her, that dirty slimy rat, and I'm going to kill him I'm going to kill him I'm going to_ – !" He stopped suddenly, with a small gasp.

"No, Mircea, no killing. You can't kill. You're in Hell and you can't kill in Hell. But why is it so cold? I thought that it was supposed to be pits of fire and smouldering ash. It's too cold to be Hell. It's cold and it hurts. It's hurting." He began to weep. Softly he began to rock himself again.

"I'm so tired. I'm so tired. Why can't I sleep? I can't sleep, and I'm so tired but I can't sleep. I need rest. I need to rest. I need to rest and I need to sleep but I can't. It hurts and I can't and I'm going to kill him but Hell is too cold and I'm dead and Death is my best friend and Death was my father's friend but the Inspector took all the booze and it hurts and it's cold and I can't sleep but I _need to sleep._"

Mircea took a few shuddering breaths before closing his eyes. He hummed an old lullaby his mother had taught him, and soon his breathing, although miserably raspy, was even.


	24. Jean Claude Taylor

**Author's Note:**

**You guys have waited far too long, so I'm going to ditch my original plan of giving you 10 chapters all at once, and instead give you Chapter 24 immediately. Enjoy! 3**

**

* * *

**

Chapter 24

Jean-Claude Taylor rose from bed with a grunt. The past few days had been trying; he was thinking hard about what he had seen in Javert's office. He tried convincing himself it was nothing, but there was a small, dreading feeling in the pit of his stomach he just couldn't shake. He thought it best to ignore it for now, but to comfort himself he decided to keep a close eye on the Lieutenant. He thought her rather suspicious from day one, but she was quiet and respectful around him and did her job decently enough.

As he walked into the building, he realized just how much he relied on the Inspector. The other men were almost all of them either incredibly young, twenty years old and rushing to enlist, or old men, twenty to thirty years older than even Taylor or Javert. But the old men all had desk jobs; no one working the field would live that long, not in Paris. The Inspector was a marvel; forty-five and still in magnificent physical and mental condition. Taylor was actually seven years his junior; the Inspector had every power to be Commandant, but he seemed not to possess that kind of ambition, so a younger man took the spot. Taylor believed that if Javert wanted his position, he would likely be able to take it with a fair amount of ease. So Taylor made sure to stay on Javert's good side.

He went through the necessary paperwork of the day, and finally got up, stretching and cracking his back, heaving a deep sigh. He needed a new chair soon. Taylor strolled around the prison, making sure that everyone was doing their job. Andre, a cadet, rather new, was having quite a bit of difficulty with reports, and the Commandant spent a good hour or so helping him out. He finally got the young man in order, and the cadet, feeling pleased and embarrassed at the fact the Commandant needed to take so much time out of his day just for him, scurried off. Taylor watched him go, and then went down to check on the guards, and make sure the shifts were in order and the prisoners had eaten. Finally he returned upstairs, and passed Javert's office. Tsura wasn't there; she was on patrol with Dupierre and wouldn't be back until evening. Lamont was supposed to be the one partnering with Dupierre but he had fallen ill and Taylor had taken the chance to separate the Lieutenant and the Inspector. Javert worked diligently, as always, and was so invested in what he was doing he didn't even notice his boss staring through the window. Taylor remained there a few moments, then nodded to himself and went into his office.

Just then Dupaul entered, holding a file in one hand. "Sir?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Orders from St. Pelerine," said the older man, waving the occupied hand. "They have prisoners they need to relocate – their prison has reached maximum capacity and they're experiencing multiple issues."

"What sort of issues?"

"Mechanical issues, firstly; the prison is more or less falling apart and they're doing repairs as best and as fast as they possibly can, but there are major delays, mostly because of weather and money. The prisoners are becoming rowdy and some have resorted to physical violence because of their frustration; it's overfilled in each cell. They're running out of funds because of the added healthcare issues as well as the building repair costs. They are more or less asking our help."

"What, exactly, do they want from us?"

"They need officers to go to St. Pelerine and transport twelve prisoners over to our prison."

Taylor bit back a groan. "On such short notice!"

"We should send Lamont. He's—"

"Ill, with fever."

"But—"

"Yes, I know. That means that Javert will have to go."

"Who will go with him? On this time rush we'll only be able to send one other officer until better plans are prepared."

"I'll figure that out. You return to your station. Thank you." Dupaul left, closing the door behind him, leaving his superior alone in the quiet, staring at the file on his desk.

Commandant Jean-Claude Taylor ran a lean hand through his wavy, light brown hair, sighing deeply. He sifted through his notes, an air of begrudging dismay hanging over him. This was not what he was planning on when he woke up this morning. Transfers were bad enough, but when he was forced to send his prized Inspector because the guard usually used for this demanding, cursed task was ill with fever... Taylor rubbed the bridge of his strong nose with his thumb and forefinger, sighing again. Today was going to be a long day.


	25. Urgent Business

Chapter 25 

"We have an assignment in another town, Lieutenant," said Javert to me as he entered the office. I gave him a surprised glance.

"Is that even in our jurisdiction?" Javert looked at me, questioning with his eyes whether or not I was being serious or just lazy, then nodded curtly. "Yes," he replied. "We have to go to St. Pelerine for some urgent business."

"Business of what sort?"

"There are some prisoners that are being brought over because their prison isn't large enough. We have to go bring one prisoner – we would bring more but the scheduling was done terribly and the only ones available at present are the two of us, and they don't want us to take more than we can handle."

"Well we can handle more than one."

Javert shook his head. "This guy committed multiple thefts and two attempted escapes. The other prisoners are all guilty of arson, or murder, or rape, or a combination of those three. I didn't have a choice in who we transported but I would not have allowed you to take on these kinds of criminals even if I did."

I frowned at him. "Inspector, I live in one of the worst neighborhoods in Paris." But he simply shook his head again, as though that was an adequate reply. I sighed, crossing my arms, earning a burning glare from my superior.

"We aren't going to fight with this man," he said, his voice low and patronizing, "we are going to transport him over here, hopefully without any problems. So don't give me any problems."

I growled under my breath, stacking the finished papers together angrily and not looking in Javert's eyes. Honestly! Why did he always have to add such unnecessary things?

Javert watched me work for a while, then left the room to attend personal business. I got up suddenly and bolted after him. "When do we leave?" I asked him.

"Tomorrow," he replied, turning away from me. I gaped at his back.

"_Tomorrow?_"


	26. Irritable Train Ride

Chapter 26

The train ride was long and tedious. I watched out the window, trying not to fidget in my seat. Javert read over the files we had been given before departure. I had already read them through ten times, and I was sure that this was Javert's twentieth. I sighed loudly and earned a glare from my superior.

"Lieutenant, if you would stop acting like a child, it would be incredibly helpful."

"Sir, with all due respect, you've memorized those files from the first read-through. Take a break. You're going to kill yourself from stress."

The Inspector looked like he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "It isn't stressful reading a few papers. It's stressful having to take a day-and-a-half-long train ride with you."

I glared at him sharply. "You know, you could have scared Andre into coming along."

"The new cadet? He's barely been here for three months. You've been my Lieutenant over a year. You have more experience than him, and you aren't a quivering little schoolboy."

I sighed. "I don't want to argue right now, sir. The trip is exhausting enough as it is."

Javert nodded his head in agreement.

And yet, the long silence that followed was filled with tension. I could feel his eyes on me every once in a while.

"Excuse me," I said finally. He looked up, scowling.

"Where are you going?"

"Exploring," I muttered sarcastically.

"Well, you aren't –"

"Sir, please. I need some air."

He settled back in his seat and eyed me carefully as I exited the cart. I sighed loudly and ran a hand up my face and into my hair. It was getting harder and harder to act civil around him. I shoved my hands into my pockets and began walking, trying to think 'light stroll' but coming across as 'cranky old man'. I made it to the observation deck and stared out of the huge windows. Light rain pattered on the cold glass and I watched it as my hands came up to feel the perspiring surface.

I decided, that between an incredible luck and an incredible torture, that it was the latter that had gotten me stuck with Javert on this trip. _Or rather, he stuck with you_, said a small voice in the back of my mind. I winced.

I sighed. Javert had been unusually sharp with me the past few days.

Wait...

_Unusually?_

Why did I find this harshness so foreign?

Wasn't he always harsh?

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

I recalled the day I first truly met him. It was when I was sixteen. His eyes were freezing and unforgivable as he glared at me, crying in the rain and mud, while they dragged my father away to his doom.

My brother glared back.

I sighed again. _I should have realized at that moment..._

But I knew I couldn't blame anyone for what happened.

I bit my lip and drew pictures on the glass. Over a year...

My heart thudded in my chest as I recalled everything that had occurred since I joined the police under the Inspector's command.

The thugs...

The fire...

_The kiss_...

I immediately felt my face heat up and I chewed harder on my bottom lip.

No, it had been an accident!

_He pulled you to him._

He didn't want me to scream.

_He could've put a hand over your mouth._

And risk hysteria?

_The kiss caused more hysteria._

No it didn't.

_The hysteria occured in your mind._

My blush grew.

His lips had been surprisingly soft, the warmth of his mouth comforting. It had been quick, but not brief. And surprisingly tender.

I put my fingers to my lips.

Would it be so terrible if our lips met again?

I growled at myself. _Of course it would!_ I yelled in my mind. _He's my boss, for Chrissakes!_

_

* * *

_

Javert leaned against the tiny sill of the window, watching the scenery blue into a blue-grey.

Tsura had been gone a while.

Not that he cared.

_But, my God, is she ever being insubordinate!_

A small voice at the back of his head began to speak._ What's insubordinate about walking around a train unaccompanied?_

_She's clumsy. She could get hurt._

_I thought you said you don't care._

"I don't," muttered Javert, aloud and irritably.

_You did when she saved you from the fire._

He shuddered.

Yes, that night. He tried avoiding it every single time it came to his mind or was brought up in a conversation.

What he had done had been unforgivable...

_She didn't object..._

A flush rose to Javert's cheeks and he damned himself.

"She was in pain, and in shock!" he hissed to himself.

_So a kiss was appropriate?_

"Adrenaline!"

_Only adrenaline?_

"Yes!"

_Hm, interesting. Because when your lips tasted hers, you thought-_

"Sir? are you alright?" Javert jumped and he looked at Tsura with wide eyes.

"F-Fine, Lieutenant. Just... thinking."

"The observation cabin is empty. It's a good place to go if you need to think."

"I'm done with my thoughts for now."

"Ah."

"Is that why you were there?" he asked carefully, risking to look at her. "You needed to think?"

Her face flushed red and she turned to the window. "Only inconsequential things, really."

He bit back a sigh and looked out the window as well.

This was going to be a long trip.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**Please, guys, I appreciate how much you love this story... But I'm going through a very rough time and I need to devote my energy and time into other things right now, okay? Please be patient. Nothing has been working out for me lately and I'm just trying to keep positive. These messages are starting to make me feel like I'm letting you all down.**


	27. Arrival

Chapter 27

I winced as the carriage jolted again. Javert looked at me, eyebrow raised. "Not used to carriages, Lieutenant?" he asked, and I swear I could almost see him smirking, the bastard. I gritted my teeth as we ran over more bumps in the road. "I'm doing just fine, Inspector," I replied icily. "Just _fine_." His smirk was definite now, and when he turned his head to look out the window I made a face at him, and when I turned to my own window I started mocking what he said under my breath in a high-pitched, nasally tone. He noticed, and shot me a glare, but I pretended not to see, looking out to the lovely scenery. Everything was golden out here except for the purple and pink wildflowers and deep green leaves on the large gnarled trees. I opened the window, feeling the wind whip at my face.

"How much longer will it be until we get there?"

"If we continue without too much delay, we should arrive by nightfall."

I nodded, returning my focus to the view. I was just beginning to daydream when the carriage jerked suddenly.

Javert looked startled, then angry. "Is there a problem?" he cried, and quickly ushered me out, walking to the driver. "Why did you stop?" he asked him. The driver looked at him smoothly.

"Road ahead's too muddy for the horses and wheels; I'd get stuck in an instant. You'll have to walk the rest of the way; 't isn't too far from here, and I'm sure you can use the exercise." Javert glared at the man but said nothing.

"Listen," I said, taking control. " We need to get to St. Pelerine as soon as we can."

"Walk."

"I'm sorry?"

"Listen, lady, it'll be the only way you can get there by tonight." I cursed our rotten luck, then took our bags and began walking. Javert hurried after me, fighting with me for his own sack.

"Just what are you doing?"

"Walking, like he said we should do."

"Lieutenant, I'm sure..."

I glared at him. "With all due respect, sir... shut up."

His eyes widened in surprised anger. "You're being insubordinate again, Lieutenant."

"Just _walk_, sir."

He growled softly, straightening, and began striding ahead of me. I had to jog a little to catch up. For a good hour we continued in silence until my stomach decided to growl.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

"What was that?"

"Sorry, sir. It appears I'm hungry."

"Hm."

A pause.

"Sir?"

A longer pause.

"What, Lieutenant?"

"I'm hungry."

"I'm well aware. You just told me."

"Can we find something to eat?"

He turned to me and stared at me like I was crazy. "Pardon?"

"I am starving."

"It's half a day's trek to the town. We need to keep moving if we want to get to an inn in time."

"But sir-"

"Not only that - and don't interrupt me - but we are in the middle of _nowhere_."

"Sir..."

"_What?_"

"Your stomach growled."

A pause, as Javert tried to figure out a comeback.

He gritted his teeth instead.

"Sir please we're both hungry-"

"_Deal with it._"

"Sir, if we looked..."

"_Deal_-"

"...and found some berries..."

"-_-with-_"

"or maybe apples we'd have energy for the rest of the trip."

Javert was silent for a long time.

Then he stopped.

"Fine."

I almost cheered.

"But _you_ look."

"Doesn't matter to me!"

I ran through the golden fields.

I could tell Javert was watching me.

"Sir!" I cried. "I found a discarded bag! It has bread and apples!"

"Leave it!"

"_What?_"

"It belongs to someone!"

"But... but it's discarded!"

"Lost!"

"Discarded!"

"Lieutenant..."

I sighed. "Fine." I trekked back up to Javert. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up out of the ditch. I pulled away from him and began walking ahead.

"Sulking won't do anything."

"Well it makes me feel better."

"Less hungry?"

"Don't talk to me."

A heavy, exasperated sigh.

Then I heard rustling.

I whipped around.

Javert was in the wheat.

His head was down, and his arms were moving.

"...Sir?"

He ignored me.

"Sir?"

He kept moving. I watched him, until, once he was a ways away, he disappeared out of sight.

Silence choked the air yet again.

"S-Sir?"

He popped up suddenly, with a branch covered in berries.

He walked up. "It won't do much," he said as he closed in. "But it should help." He thrust it in my hand. "Take the whole bloody thing and stop sulking. You aren't a child."

* * *

"It seems we have arrived," I mumbled. Our limbs ached, cramped and stiff from trudging for miles, our foreheads burned from being under the Indian sun for hours and I assumed we were likely suffering from heatstroke. It was night now, though. But the night was still hot. No sooner had I said these words than we saw a pub come into view and I realized how dry my mouth was. "Javert, I hate pubs, but I'm so thirsty."

He seemed to be too tired to argue, which was a good thing. He wasn't talking to me, or looking at me, but as I dragged my feet toward the building he followed quickly until he was in the lead. He opened the door and let me enter first before coming up behind me, scanning the place out. It seemed legitimate enough, if not rather strangely green in aura. I wondered if it was the lights, or if, perchance, they specialized in selling absinthe.

"What can I do ya for?" asked the bartender, a rotund man with a thick moustache that attached to his muttonchops. He was balding quite badly.

"Water, please," I breathed. Javert ordered the same.

"No ale?"

"No alcohol at all, please," said Javert. I guzzled my drink the moment it was served to me, not caring how ladylike I appeared to Javert, the bartender or any of the other patrons. I gasped for breath as I slammed the glass mug down. Javert stared at me.

"Are you an animal?"

"Excuse me?"

"What was that?"

"I was thirsty."

"That's not thirsty, that's..." he shook his head, staring at my empty mug.

"What?"

He just turned to his own drink., shaking his head. I sighed and returned the glass. Javert finally finished his drink, and paid for the two of us. He turned around to speak to me but a man shouldered him. Javert, caught off-guard, stumbled a bit.

"Watch where yeer goin'," growled the man.

"Excuse me," replied Javert, darkly. The man whipped around and glared at Javert, who stared him down coolly. I got up, readying myself. A foreboding air tensed around us.

"Say that again?"

"Excuse me."

The man growled and cracked his knuckles. "I don't much like outsiders, and I like them even less when they're mouthy."

"Listen, sir," I interjected, "just c–"

"Look, you little tramp, you can stay out of this."

Javert's eyes ignited and his hand clamped on the man's shoulder. "You and I are going to have a chat outside."

"Not likely."

"See here–"

But the man's fist collided with his jaw and Javert reeled back. I tried to say something but my words caught in my mouth. They were on the ground, a flurry of fists and legs, and Javert had the upper hand for the most part, but suddenly the other man was straddling him, his hands clamped around his throat. I couldn't move, but luckily a man came up and ripped the drunkard off my superior. I rushed to him and helped him up, my eyes filled with concern as I looked him over. One hand was lifting him, between his shoulder blades, the other was hovering above his stomach. After he got his balance he pushed me away and got up. The older man that had helped us had the drunkard by the scruff of the neck.

"Sorry," he said. "This is a real horrid way to welcome newcomers; I had no idea that Kurt was going to act this way. He usually only gets this drunk on weekends."

Javert and I looked at each other, an eyebrow raised on each of our faces, before returning our gaze to the older man. "And you are?" asked Javert.

"I'm Pierre Garret. I'm the mayor of this town."

Javert and I exchanged another look.

"Please," said Mr. Garret. "Let me make this up to you. Come to my house for supper. My wife has been looking for someone to test out her new recipe for the Apple Fair and I don't think I'll be able to eat all that pie alone."

My stomach growled angrily and I turned away when Javert shot me a look. He was obviously considering arguing the man, but he was hungry too.

"Thank you," he replied instead.

"Tomorrow, at seven, then." We both nodded and left the pub.

"We need to find someplace to sleep." I looked up at Javert and he nodded in agreement, motioning to the restaurant and inn down the road. We made it there quickly and ordered large meals, eating rather quickly. When we got to the inn, we noticed how quiet everything was. The gruff, old man working the front desk seemed to be in a foul mood and looked at us sharply as we neared.

"What do you want?" he demanded, noting our uniforms.

"A room with two beds," replied Javert curtly. The man sniffed and hacked and grunted, then shook his head.

"We're all full here."

"Well where on earth will we sleep tonight?"

"It's warm enough outside, innit?"

Javert was about to object, but I was already miserably exhausted. I took his arm. "It's okay sir. Let's go."

Javert stared at me like I was insane and was about to argue with me as well when I turned on my heel and walked out the door. He followed quickly as I moved to the slope off the large dirt road.

"Lieutenant, what on earth–?"

"Just come here." I lay on the grass and looked up at him. He kept on staring at me like I had just lost my brain. "Please, let's sleep here. I'm used to sleeping on the grass. It isn't that bad."

He sighed loudly and laid down beside me.

"You get a fantastic view of the stars," I mumbled before drifting off to sleep, missing Javert's look of surprise in my direction. Soon I could hear his breathing slow and even out and I relaxed.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Okay, there are going to be some smudged facts in the next few chapters. Firstly, I've never been to France, so even though ****Eguzon and La Châtre do exist, if there's a town between them, hell if I know – I do know that they're very close, however – practically side by side, as it were. There is a fair in October for Eguzon (what luck on my part!) called the Chestnut and Apple Fair. What they do to celebrate is probably rather different, however, so I'm giving you all that warning now. Also, I find that Eguzon is too waterfront-looking, and La Châtre is more what I'm imagining when I write about this town. Because I'm too stiff about facts, though, I decided that I was just going to shove a town in the middle, have it have the Fair the same as ****Eguzon but have the more rural feel of La Châtre. Thank you for your patience in trying to understand my bonkers way of thinking.**

**Also I need everyone who wants that short to give me a message again as I've forgotten who wanted it. Also, thank you for votes, the ending has been decided. Almost completely unanimous, too!**

**Love always,**

**DM**


	28. A Hearty Meal

Chapter 28

I woke with a start when I heard heavy shuffling beside me. I looked up and saw Javert towering over me, dusting off the dead grass and dirt from his uniform with his large brown hands. I rose to help him, but he brushed me off. Irked, I slapped the dust off his back. He glared at me, but I glared back, and muttered that I had effectively cleaned his back off, so all he did was growl, stretch and walk up to the dirt road.

"There is so much dirt in this town," he muttered.

"We aren't in a city, sir. We're practically in the countryside. It's not like they can help it, you know."

Javert scoffed, rolled and cracked his neck and began walking to the market. I followed silently for a while, sighing to myself. It was getting harder to talk to him, as though he just shut me out, more so than even before. It wasn't fair to me, but more importantly it wasn't fair to him. I could tell he needed someone to talk to, and it upset me that he didn't believe he had that luxury.

* * *

The entire day was horribly uneventful, and the awkward silence between me and Javert was hardly ever broken. It was becoming nauseatingly difficult keeping around him. Finally the evening came and we found the mayor's house. Javert knocked on the door.

"Please try and be courteous and remember your table etiquette, Lieutenant," said my superior. I gave him a look.

"Yes, sir," I muttered, not in the mood to defy him tonight. He raised his eyebrow at me but we both looked ahead when the footsteps of the heavyset mayor were heard and we only had to wait a moment longer before he opened the door, a large grin on his face.

"Welcome, welcome!" he said jovially, ushering us inside. We smiled dutifully as he led us to the dinner table, chatting on about nothing in particular, showing us his house, which I must say was huge. They had a living room, a dining room, a kitchen. He pointed to the bathroom and told us the bedrooms were down the hall, one for him and his wife, one for his son, and a guest room. It was amazing. A mansion.

We were quickly seated and the wife presented us with our meal. Javert and I were quiet while the mayor said Grace, knowing that however they operated in their house was what we would follow and we would be respectful. We were halfway through our supper, the mayor and Javert speaking about the jail and the mayor's wife trying to start me into a very strange conversation about weddings and babies, which I tried very hard to stealthily get out of, when all of a sudden a loud slam came from the front door.

"Mother, Father, I'm home!" called a distinctly male voice. We all turned as a young man entered, and gasped when his eyes fell on the scene. "Do excuse me, I was running late and completely forgot about our guests! Do forgive me," he implored, looking at Javert, who was obviously trying to hide the fact he was quite unimpressed.

"Not at all," he said. The young man smiled and introduced himself as Eric. He had dazzling green eyes and pitch black hair. His father told him to sit and join the table, which he did. He sat closest to me, and gave me a pearly-toothed smile, which I returned.

"Oh, Inspector!" The mayor's exclamation made us all look at him, and then Javert. "You were injured, weren't you? In the bar fight?"

Javert's ears pinkened. "I really wasn't―"

"Nonsense, this isn't a matter of pride. The man really got you. Not your fault, you were caught by surprise."

Javert cleared his throat, frowning.

"My son's a doctor, see? He can help you out."

Javert raised an eyebrow at Eric, who nodded and smiled.

* * *

**Hey this is a short chapter because I want to get it out now. Sorry for the extended hiatus. Everything's looking up right now.**


	29. Patching Up

Chapter 29

After supper, followed by a dessert that was _insisted_ by the mayor's wife, Eric brought Javert to the living room, saying that he would need the light of the fire to see. He requested Javert remove his jacket and shirt, and reluctantly Javert did so, eyeing me.

"You don't have to be here," he said before undressing.

"I want to make sure your injuries are not severe," I replied.

"They are not. I am not in pain."

"I can't know that. You hide it very well, sir."

He had sighed and finally acquiesced. I kept my demeanour calm and my face stoic as I watched him remove his clothing, also I felt my cheeks become a little warm. His scars were expansive and plentiful. He had hairy forearms and a dark trail leading into his trousers ― which I tried very hard not to stare at ― but otherwise he was rather clean. I figured it was because of all the scar tissue, and if it wasn't for the physical reminders of all the fights he had been in he would be quite hairy. The scars were also on his back, making me wonder just how many fights the Inspector had found himself in.

The doctor pressed certain parts of Javert's body. Every so often he'd hiss, wince, or inhale sharply, trying in vain to hide it, even though Eric had told him it would be best if he didn't.

"Alright," said the young man, "you have three bruised ribs along with some bruising on your upper chest and your right bicep. I'll wrap your torso as a precaution but you should heal quickly." He took a roll of white bandage and began wrapping around Javert's ribcage, focusing on the lower section. I realized how thick-chested Javert was. Muscular and strong, however, not flabby in any respect. I looked away, feeling ashamed.

Javert dressed again and thanked the doctor for his services, and I rose to stand by his side as we both thanked the family for supper. We left swiftly, but not before the mayor's wife told me to meet her the next morning.

* * *

**Hey all! The next few chapters will be very short so I can get to the main part in this arc, which I have long ago written, although I may want to pass through again just to make sure it sounds proper. **

**Ondyne, a lovely fan of mine, has drawn fan art for my fic! I'm honoured, and I feel blessed to have such great readers! You're all wonderful! I'll be posting a link to her art in my next chapter. Any and all art I receive I shall post a link to so everyone can see! **


	30. An Unfortunate Predicament

Chapter 30

I was very tired by the time we left, and I looked up at Javert. "I think we should try and get a room again," I murmured. Javert turned to me, frowning when he saw how sleepy I was, and nodded curtly. We arrived shortly after to the inn and Javert approached the innkeeper with a dark frown, one that the innkeeper returned without hesitation.

"We would very much appreciate a room," said Javert.

"One just opened up," replied the old man. "A one-bedroom on the second floor."

Javert froze and swallowed. "Is that all you have?"

"There's always the grass again."

Javert glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. I yawned and after a moment, he sighed in defeat. "Fine." He set the cost of the room on the counter and the innkeeper gave us the key. The Inspector looked more than a little reluctant, so I took the key from the elderly man and began walking up the stairs. Javert relented and followed soon after.

I turned to Javert when he entered. "Sir? Can you look away for a moment?"

Javert's eyes widened as he realized what I meant. "Have you no shame, girl?"

"Just turn around."

Javert's ears burned and he growled in irritation, but he did as told, crossing his arms over his chest. I went to my bag ― the only one I had brought for the trip ― and removed my nightgown. Hurriedly I began to strip.

* * *

Javert prided himself on being a gentleman. He had never found himself possessed by carnal urges and always sought to be proper to ladies. So he didn't know why he glanced over. He suspected it was simply a reflex, because his conscious mind had no wish to see Tsura in anything less than her uniform. He had no previous or current thoughts on the matter and figured this momentary lapse in propriety was simply to be blamed on his mental and physical exhaustion. He had glanced. He would be ashamed of this fact for a long time.

He had glanced.

Tsura had her back to him, but that back was bared, as her arms were raised over her head in the act of removing her blouse. Javert swallowed.

He had turned away quite quickly, but for that moment it was though time had stopped.

Tsura's dark, slender back was shown to him, silhouetted by the light of the moon. He saw the wound.

Her scars from that night.

Her entire back was mangled. The burns had healed but the scars that remained protruded. They were a lighter colour than the rest of her flesh and blotched with pink. The worst of it was a "strip" that seemed to be highlighted – where the beam had collided with her body. The impact had caused a horrible diagonal gash that had turned into a harsh, angry, dark red scar, even more pronounced over the rest of her back. There was nothing beautiful about it. It was a constant physical reminder of something she wouldn't be able to forget otherwise.

Her long dark hair cascaded over her back and hid most of the damage. When time had restored and one second didn't feel like an hour Javert recovered and whipped his head around. Tsura had not even noticed. She finished dressing into her thin cotton nightgown and slipped under the covers. She looked at him.

"You seem to make every situation more awkward than it is," she muttered. "Take off your boots, at least."

"Pardon?"

"Get in the bed."

Javert's ears burned again. "Certainly not!"

Tsura rolled her eyes, and Javert cleared his throat irritably. "Look, sir, the bed can fit the both of us. The only other option is that tiny wooden chair. I won't let you sit in that."

Javert frowned. "I'll sleep on the floor, then. Hand me a pillow." Tsura growled in reply. "Lieutenant," he said in a warning tone.

"Sir, please, be reasonable."

Javert scowled, and after a few more moments of bickering, finally backed down. He removed his boots and went above the covers. Tsura sighed and turned on her side away from him.

It took the poor uncomfortable Javert at least an hour to fall asleep.

* * *

**As promised, here is a link to Ondyne's fan art. I will post a link to any and all fan art sent to me.**

.com/gallery/#/d3jkyq6

.com/gallery/?offset=24#/d3alloy


	31. A Message to My Readers

Okay so, I was going to give a message stating: hey, I'm going to finish it! But I've been receiving rather rude messages from people saying "I expected it to happen" and "either write it or don't" and you know what? Fuck you. This is a fanfiction, not my life's work. I wanted to write it for enjoyment purposes and it turned into me catering to all of you. Some people reading are nice, but a surprising number of you only want me to continue because it's the only romance fanfiction with Javert where he isn't written as being gay (which by the way, whoever wrote that this is gross? That's really fucking rude too). None of you told me that you think my writing is good or reassure me about Tsura, who is my main problem. It really hurt that I'm just here for you guys to get a little indulged. I wanted to write this with the express purpose of developing my writing in an enjoyable manner. Fanfiction is a fun thing for me, a guilty pleasure. I was happy for so long having so many people follow my story and review it and say they love it, but when I was having problems, sympathy died out rather fast. I seriously wonder whether I should continue – not the story, but posting the story to – because if all I'm going to get is exasperation or people telling me I'm only a wish fulfillment device, then there's no point. I'm a person with problems and I wanted to use this as a way to feel good and keep busy, and I was going to get back into that, but Christ, if I'm just going to get negativity I don't know if I really want to continue. I'm not going to apologize for any of my actions – I was having serious problems balancing my moods and keeping my depression at a manageable level. It's really hard to be in a Les Mis fandom too because so many people don't know it at all, but in the fandom there's actually quite a bit of unpleasantness one needs to put up with. Look, I'm a person, just like any of you. Being snappy or exasperated or rude doesn't make me want to continue. Thank you to the people who are still kind. Everyone else, just, stop getting so bent out of shape.


	32. A Really Positive Announcement!

**Okay, so, I want to give a huge thank you to everyone who has given me messages of support since my rant. ESPECIALLY, I need to thank one beautiful person in particular, Tarja, for sending me long messages telling me what I can do to improve my writing in a clear and constructive manner. Thank you, Tarja, for your kindness!**

**Also, to my most recent commenter, Emma, thank you for also telling me what I wanted to hear - when I get feedback on my writing (whether it be character development, relationship development, plot, action scenes, whatever) it is literally the best feeling ever. You don't need to apologize; I can't hate people who don't comment. I just was angry with passive aggressive commentators whose motives were unclear. **

**So! Announcement! Christmas break is coming up, and once I've completed my final projects (I'm in college, guys, and for any readers who are still in high school, prepare to not be prepared whatsoever) I'm going to keep on a schedule of writing and drawing so that when break ends, I'm not blah. But! I will be taking a break, because the past few months, especially the past few weeks, have been incredibly stressful to the point of me having emotional meltdowns multiple times a day. So don't expect updates, but know I am writing.**

**Tarja has convinced me to get back with it, but there need to be changes made to the story to make it more believable. Yes, this part is going to be fun for me, or else I wouldn't be doing it. It's going to give me a reason to like Tsura again, hopefully with Tarja's help, hahaha. So I'll be bringing the story down AFTER I've rewritten it (I will try to update until a certain point because that point everything changes for our protagonists) so fear not, because it won't be gone long before the new one is up. I'm going to see if I can just delete the chapters and reupload them so no one loses their favourites. **

**Thank you for sticking by.  
**


	33. Goodbye

Several horrible things have happened. My mother is severely ill, I have become very sick, and I've jst gone through a heartwrenching "break up" with a friend.

This is a note to say I AM TERMINATING THIS STORY.

I'll post up all my unfinished shit.

Sorry to my kind readers.


	34. the unfinished love scene I promised

Javert sighed and put down his quill, running his hand over his face in aggravation. Lately, he hadn't been able to get any work done. His thoughts, swimming violently in his head, were blurred and difficult to understand. Whenever he got a glimpse of what his trouble was, it would twirl out of his grip, like a dancer made of smoke. He growled under his breath; this was becoming more than simply stressful. He could not handle not being able to concentrate; after all, his work meant everything to him, and without it he was lost.

He heard the handle of the door click, and was not surprised to see his Lieutenant enter. "Good morning," he said to her. She returned the greeting cordially and sat down at her desk beside his. Immediately she began scratching her inked quill on the parchment. The Inspector seemed to become even more frustrated at the fact she could keep her focus while he sat there like an incompetent.

"Lieutenant, what day is it today?" he asked. He felt her eyes on him for a moment, searching.

"It's Wednesday, sir," she replied cautiously. He nodded. There was a small silence between them, and then her voice again, hesitant: "Sir, is something wrong?"

Wrong? Of course there was something wrong. Javert just didn't know what the hell it _was_. "No," he said. "Nothing is wrong. I did not sleep at all last night and I seem to be rather muddled today."

"You should take a break, sir. You shouldn't overwork yourself."

"Nonsense," he replied curtly, shaking his head and signing a release paper, placing it neatly into the pile of completed paperwork.

"Sir, I insist. I'll take your paperwork. Go sleep." She motioned to the couch. He sighed, knowing he could not win this. He did as was told, albeit very reluctantly, and was surprised how quickly he fell asleep; he barely had his head comfortably resting on the arm before his eyes closed and he drifted off into dreamland.

He woke up a while later, hearing the scratching of the quill on paper. Tsura was still working hard. He noticed that there was a blanket draped over him. Saying nothing, he folded it up and went to his seat, beginning to work.

Once the day was done and the moon shone through the window, Javert decided their day was done. He informed Tsura and They both got ready to leave. In a decision so very unlike Javert, the inspector asked if he could walk her home. Tsura looked at him, surprised.

"Really?"

Javert frowned. "Is there something wrong with it?"

The woman shook her head quickly. "Nothing wrong at all, just a little surprising."

Their walk was long and quiet, but Javert stopped her a few streets before her house. He brought her to face him, and, staring at her for a while, sighed.

"Why did you have to enter my life at all?"

Javert took her jaw gently with curled fingers and brought her face to his, kissing her softly. Tsura's eyes widened by degrees and Javert's did not completely close, and he pulled away after only a short amount of time, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious but expertly not showing it on his face.

"Sir?" asked the gypsy hesitantly. "Are you feverish?" Her own face was rather flushed, and when Javert realized he was staring, his ears began to burn. He took her shoulders and leaned down; capturing her lips again, a little more forceful this time.

"No," he said in a quiet voice when he parted from her again, although he lingered close. "At least, not in the way you might be thinking." Tsura bit her lip and squirmed, unsure of what to say or do next. Javert sensed this discomfort and stood rigid, afraid he had been too bold. "Lieutenant? Are you…"

"You just did _that_ and you're still calling me Lieutenant?" Tsura's eyebrow raised and Javert shrugged helplessly.

"Force of habit," he replied.

"Sir, may I ask what on earth has gotten into you?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, forcing himself not to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I'm really not. It's quite aggravating not knowing something, especially about oneself. This hasn't really ever happened to me before."

Tsura sighed. "Can you try to explain it?" She didn't want any false hope.


	35. Unedited future ideas

**This is all the stuff I wrote for future chapters, unedited.**

I looked up at the twilit sky as I leaned against the broken lamppost. Javert stood in front of me. We stayed silent for a long time, but I began to feel as though something must be said.

"Sir, have you ever looked at the stars?" I had my head upturned, and only heard his breath hitch in his throat. "I mean, have you ever really thought about them?" I looked into his face, surprised to see emotion showing. When he realized I was looking at him, his visage returned to its normal stony state.

"Why do you ask, Lieutenant?" he said softly, carefully.

"I ask because I have, sir. I have contemplated those twinkling lights many a night in my youth."

"Your speech seems to have improved."

I ignored him, and continued. "Whenever I was lost or scared, and Mircea wasn't there for me, I would look to the stars for comfort. I understand that I am terribly dependent on others, and I should apologize because I have likely acted similarly to you. I don't mean to be so needy…" I paused; my head had somehow turned down, and I was staring at my feet. I returned my focus toward the sky. "But the stars always comforted me. I was never completely alone, never completely in the dark. I would eventually find my way home if I was lost, or fall asleep if I was frightened or hurt. They were always there, always watching over me, keeping me safe and lighting my way." I swallowed, gripping at my sleeve. "You know, I did a lot of bad things in my life. I did not atone for my sins like I should have, sir, and so…" I held out my wrists to him, my eyes firmly shut. "You should arrest me."

A silence. A silence that passed for too long.

"Don't be ridiculous, Lieutenant."

My eyes snapped open. My face must have registered my disbelief for the Inspector's angry scowl showed a hint of discomfort. The sharpness in his tone caused my heartbeat to speed. "W-what?" was all I managed.

"You haven't finished paying your dues for robbing me yet."

I uttered a choked sob and shoved my hands at his face. He jolted away, startled at my sudden movement. I pressed my hands against his chest. "Arrest me," I muttered, refusing to show my red face, looking at the ground and thanking the Lord that my hair was long and unruly. I pressed against him again and again, until I began to sobbing. I whimpered for a while before Javert carefully pulled me towards him, his strong hand resting on my head, his other arm hanging limp. He was silent as he let me weep; I clutched his jacket as my body trembled.

"You've been crying a lot lately," he muttered gently.

"I have a lot to cry about," I replied bitterly. He stayed silent for a moment, but the air was growing uncomfortable, weighing down on us both.

"Why do you want to go to jail?" he asked, pulling us apart.

"I don't," I said, trying to sound calm, "but I know how conflicting it must be for me to walk around, free, after you know I've committed numerous crimes, especially one against yourself. Not only am I not in prison, but I am working for you of all people. Why haven't you torn your sideburns out by now? Aren't I everything you are against?"

Javert's eyes were wide, and he looked as though he had been slapped, hard. The way he stared through me made me feel unsettled and upset. I put a hand over my eyes. _Maybe I shouldn't have said anything._

"No, you said something very true," responded Javert, and I cursed when I realized that my mutterings were not, in fact, in my mind. "Very important…"

I looked at the man in front of me desperately. "I'm sorry, sir, I—" I had no idea what I was apologizing for, but I felt it was necessary. He shook his head, releasing me. He seemed to be in a daze.

"I'll… I'll arrest you when we return to Paris," he said softly, his gaze faraway. I choked a sob and he grimaced. I nodded, holding a hand to my mouth.

"I understand."

When we returned, Javert began gathering one of the blankets in our room.

"What are you doing?" I asked; my voice sounded hazy, and warbled, as though I might cry again at any moment.

"I'm going to sleep in a separate room." He didn't look at me, and he was moving far too quickly.

"They're all taken, remember?"

"I'll sleep in the lounge."

"That isn't a good idea."

Javert glared at me. His eyes were rimmed red from lack of sleep, and they had a frustrated glint. I flinched, and he responded in the like. "I can't sleep here."

"Why? Because I'm here?" I saw the grip on the blanket tighten. "Sir, please don't do this. Stay here. I'll sleep by the window if it makes you feel any better."

"It isn't that, it's –"

"Sir, go to bed. It will be fine." I smiled at him. "You know it's for the best. I need to be arrested."

His face twisted, as though he was in pain. After a moment of silence he sighed, and consented, walking to the bed and throwing the blanket over it. He removed his shoes and climbed into it. He looked at the ceiling for a few moments, then turned his back to me. I sat at the window, looking out at the twinkling sky. A gentle breeze cooled my face, which had felt hot ever since I began talking about the stars to Javert. I lay my arms over the sill, and settled my chin comfortably on them. I began humming a lullaby that I remembered long ago. I paused when I realized I forgot the rest of it. Then I began humming the song that I had heard when I was bathing, the first night of the beginning of all of this. I closed my eyes and let the song lift me; even though it was melancholy, even though I understood the sadness and I felt like I could cry at any moment, I also felt an odd overwhelming joy whenever I heard it. I opened my eyes and looked at the stars. I rose from the chair and sat on the sill, stretching my arms to the heavens.

"My friends," I whispered, "you always shine down on me, guiding me. Please do so now. I need you now, more than ever." I heard rustling behind me, and whipped my head around. Javert was still sound asleep, but he was facing me. I sighed, looking again outside, resting the palms of my hands and my head against the side jamb. "You never fade, you never waver. Please give me the same strength. Javert will do what must be done; when the times comes for it, give me the strength to accept my fate with open arms. I can't cause him any more pain. I'm just a frustrating, incompetent girl to him – please let me do this one thing for him properly." (WOW THIS SUCKS CHANGE THIS NOW)

I didn't see that Javert's eyes were open. I didn't know that he heard what I said. I fell asleep quickly, and when I woke up, it was morning, and I was under the covers of the bed. Javert was gone.

(…new chapter)

(…)

We entered the hall quietly. Well, I was quiet. Javert had to greet the military men that had come as well; he was amicable tonight, it seemed, unless he just improved upon his lying skills*. I had decided to just be a woman for tonight; not an officer of the law. My fingers curled over Javert's bicep, my hand properly placed under his arm. He had shown me how to act in this type of setting before tonight, so that I would not embarrass both him and myself. I felt eyes on me and focused my gaze straight ahead.

Javert moved gracefully as he held me in his arms and whisked me unto the dance floor. I was immediately caught up in the whimsical tune of the waltz, and soon I only was aware of Javert and me and the music circling around us like a ribbon of melody. I inhaled sharply when he twirled me, but his face was so self-assured and focused I did not trip or falter. He brought me back and we spun around as the music crescendoed and the night became dizzy. I let myself focus on his warm eyes… his warm eyes… they had seemed so frigid when we first met, but the paleness was now only in colour. I knew that I was moving but it felt more like I was floating instead of stepping around. Javert's grace and charm melted into me and I felt confident and secure in his arms. He would never let me fall. The hand on my waist pulled me closer at the next two-step and our chests pressed against one another. My breath hitched and I almost missed my step, but Javert's other hand squeezed mine reassuringly, and we continued as though nothing happened.

Some of the other dancers pushed themselves away and we soon possessed the dance floor. We glided about, and every moment – there weren't many – where I felt hesitant or confused, Javert's grip just momentarily tightened around me and I felt safe again.

(New chapter)

(…)

"She's a real beauty, inn't she?" said one.

"When she's out of that starched uniform and in the clothes that she was born for, yes," agreed the other. Javert could tell that they were talking about Tsura. A beauty? Hardly.

The first one snickered. "Wait till the Inspector gets a peek at 'er. He'll be stunned so badly he won't be able to speak!"

"That'll be a relief." The two of them laughed, and Javert felt the urge to walk over and say something, when he saw movement from the right of him.

He turned, and could only open his mouth.

"S-sir?" asked a very timid-looking Tsura. She didn't seem very comfortable, and a red stain covered her cheeks.

Some of the dancers had stopped, some women starting whispering, and the two chatting men were staring. So was Javert.

Tsura was dressed in an incredible golden dress with a cream-coloured floral print. The edges of the skirt and sleeves and the low neck were embroidered with a golden thread. A tight crimson sash was tied around her waist, and a large crimson shawl was loosely hung over her head and wrapped over her shoulders. Her dark tresses were loose, daring to escape the confines of the hood. Several golden bracelets sparkled on her left wrist. Her skin colour was accented beautifully by the colours she wore.

Her eyes seemed to smoulder against the glow of the flickering flame.

She was bare-footed, and walked carefully over to Javert, kneeling down before him. "Sir, the fire isn't bothering you, is it?"

Javert was stunned speechless. He had only been able to stare at the woman before him up until now, and he couldn't find his tongue to answer her question.

_Why am I acting this way? It's simply because I'm not used to seeing the Lieutenant out of her uniform. I had a similar reaction at the dance the other night, even though it certainly wasn't as strong. _Javert felt a shudder rise up his spine. Suddenly, Tsura's hand was on his shoulder. He jumped back in surprise.

"Sorry, sir! I noticed that you had gone of in your thoughts; I wanted to make sure you were feeling okay."

Javert nodded quickly, turning away. His breathing had quickened. He closed his eyes. He had to stop himself - he was acting ridiculous. He had to chase away these thoughts; they made no sense to him, and therefore could not be trusted. But every time he looked over at her, his heart began to race. It didn't help that the first comment she gave about his new attire was, "You look very handsome, sir. Like a real gypsy."

All of a sudden a joyous cry broke Javert's thoughts. Both he and Tsura looked up to see the old Seer with a huge wooden platter filled almost-to-overflowing with...

"Figs?" asked Javert. "Do they even grow in Paris?"

"They must have brought them from wherever they came from," Tsura replied.

The plate was quickly brought around the dancing bonfire, to the twirling men and women. Everyone took one, thanking the old woman. Javert and Tsura watched silently. Javert dared not sneak a glace at the woman beside him.

Finally the plate was brought to the pair. Javert looked in, and sighed. Of course. "There's only one left," he said to his inferior officer. Tsura nodded.

"You should take it then," she told him.

"Nonsense. I'm not hungry," began the Inspector, just as his stomach betrayed him by growling. "Take it, Lieutenant," he insisted. She shook her head and he resisted a growl of indignation.

"I refuse."

"But—" he began, but Tsura grabbed the fruit, and, without another word, broke it in half.

"We should share," she said, handing one half to her superior.

Javert was silent for a moment, but then he let a hint of a smile play at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you."

Tsura looked at him wide-eyed, and blushed, quickly turning her attention to the fruit. "It... it-it-it was just common sense."

Javert looked at his piece of fig. "So do we get any utensils to eat this with?" Tsura stared at him as though he had grown multiple heads.

"No," she said, in a tone that implied she thought he was insane.

She brought her lips to the fruit and began eating it. Javert's ears heated up. She wasn't acting very ladylike... but then... Javert looked around and saw that anyone eating was doing the same; more or less slurping the fruit down. Javert cringed before doing the same.

He would never admit it, but he believed that it made the fruit taste much better.

He wiped his mouth and licked his lips. He looked over at Tsura, who at the moment seemed very pleased. Her lips were stained red, and swollen from sucking at the edges of the fig. Javert's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly turned away.

One of the older women walked over to Tsura, and began complimenting her. Javert wasn't listening until he heard her ask, "Did you two eat from the same fruit?"

He turned his head, eyebrow raised. Tsura looked confused. "Yes?" she offered.

The woman smiled knowingly. "You know what the symbol for fig is, right?"

Tsura shook her head, and the woman caught Javert's eye before whispering the answer in her ear. Tsura's face immediately went beet-red, and she began stammering incoherently.

Javert cleared his throat. "Mind sharing that information?"

The woman's smile never faltered. "Excuse me, Inspector. I was just telling this beautiful young woman that the fig is a symbol of love and sexuality."

Javert's face suddenly felt very, very, very hot. He had a suspicion it wasn't because of the fire.

"The fact that you two split the fruit in half, quite perfectly might I add, and ate from it together..." she trailed off, and began giggling like a young girl. Before Javert could say anything, she got up and walked away.

(Next chapter)

Javert has the odd sensation that his heart was going to rip apart. He thought that if he could spare himself a moment away from the fire and the crowd he could calm down. But of course not. In addition to that embarrassing conversation, they just _had_ to be forced to dance.

Next thing he knew, Javert was being forcibly dragged into the circle. Everyone was dancing in a lively, spritely way. Javert felt incredibly out of place.

The strange music filled Javert's ears and soon he just let himself go. It's as if it wasn't the real Javert who controlled his own body, but the man who he could have been. He barely missed a step, and the women seemed to be enjoying his company tremendously. Even the men seemed to respect him, although the band from earlier just looked bitter and jealous. But no one else seemed to care. Everyone was just having fun. Javert began to really _dance_. He just listened to the music and felt his body move to the rhythm; there was no set method. This involved the soul. Everyone around him displayed _their_ soul freely… was it so bad if he did, as well?

Javert dared to raise his eyes then.

He saw Tsura. Perspiration beaded at her smooth forehead, and the wide smile on her face seemed to be permanent. She was laughing breathlessly, twirled about endlessly. Her shawl was on the ground, long forgotten, and her hair was flowing freely in the breeze and her skirt whirled about her legs. The fire illuminated her figure. She seemed to be the embodiment of a flickering flame.

She glanced up with heavy-lidded eyes, and saw Javert staring at her, and gave him such a smile that Javert felt his heart twist.

He broke away from the dance then, and walked to the field, feeling the cool night wind caress his burning skin.

The music was distant. He exhaled carefully.

"Javert?" The Inspector turned around. Tsura was standing there, her face quizzical and slightly worried. "Are you alright? You looked like you were having fun, but then you left. Was the heat too much?"

Javert shook his head. "I just needed some air."

Suddenly Tsura stiffened, looking past her superior. "What's wrong, Lieutenant?"

"Don't move."

"What?"

"The horses that ran away," said the woman carefully, "they're down there, near the stream." She began to walk in slow, deliberate steps towards the two horses.

Javert followed numbly.

"Get the stallion," said Tsura, pointing to the black beast, "and I'll take the mare."

Javert nodded, imitating Tsura's movements. The horses either didn't notice the two or didn't care.

Suddenly Tsura ran, grabbed the reins of the paint horse, and leapt onto the blanket over her back.

Javert stood, speechless, grasping the reins of the indifferent black stallion.

Tsura smirked devilishly at her boss, and with an eager cry and a whip of the reins, sent the horse in a mad dash into the forest. Javert, quite unsure that the figure he just saw escape to really be Tsura, followed suit, although he was a tad less graceful getting on the huge beast beside him.

Javert followed the trail blindly until he saw the spotted cream rump of the mare. "Lieutenant, what on earth are you doing?" cried the Inspector.

All he heard was bell-like laughter, and the horse disappeared into the darkness once more.

Javert hurried after her, not sure what to make of this display of insubordination. Or perhaps... was the thief finally attempting an escape? Was the joy he saw when he danced with her moments earlier completely fake; joy in the scheme she had planned early on? Her emotions and words ever since the fire in the barn a ruse to lure Javert into a false sense of security?

Javert surprised himself by bitterly exclaiming "Impossible!"

No mere woman could outwit Javert, he reasoned.

He followed her, gaining a brutal speed. Just as he turned the bend after a long, straight path, he was forced to yank the leather that he grasped in his hands and twist the horse to an abrupt stop. They both breathed heavily, white clouds forming about their faces.

A fork in the road.

Javert cursed under his breath, and decided on the left trail. After what seemed like an eternity of riding, he felt like he really did lose her. He slowed the stallion down, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. So she _had_ been lying to him.

All of a sudden he heard a sound below him. A thundering that grew in volume, that he finally recognized to be hoof beats. He looked to his right and saw the other trail, lower by about fifteen feet, parallel to the one he was currently travelling and separated by a steep expanse of earth. Javert watched as Tsura and the spotted mare sped down the dirt track. Tsura's hair and skirt were fluttering wildly in the wind, and she seemed intent, but that grin said something along the lines of 'I don't have a care in the world.'

Javert quickly moved to action.

He whipped the reins and flew down the trail, his eyes blazing. Quickly, trying not to think, the Inspector twisted the reins and his body, and pulled the horse hard to the right. The startled stallion leapt, landing heavily next to the paint horse.

"What in blazes are you doing?" demanded Javert.

"Oh, come on, sir!" cried Tsura, the permanent smile on her face, "Show me you know how to have fun! Horseracing is every little boy's dream!"

"I am not a little boy!" he argued angrily.

"You were, once!" replied Tsura, racing ahead.

Javert realized she would only stop when he beat her; she believed this to be a race. He sighed, then gave a smile that more bared his teeth than showed emotion.

Tsura only noticed Javert when he was right beside her. Both he and the horse he rode blended into the night. She gasped, and almost crashed into the wall of dirt and rocks beside her. Javert seemed to be concentrating; he quickly overpowered her and it took no time at all for Tsura to lose sight of him.

They continued for a little longer before catching each other's eye, and slowing to a stop in the middle of a clearing. They saw the glow of the bonfire hidden behind sparse forest.

"So we returned," said Tsura.

"I'm just happy we didn't get lost. What were you _thinking_?"

""I was thinking I wanted to see you have fun one last time before we return to Paris." Tsura gazed at him, her eyes serious. Javert looked back, momentarily surprised at her words. Then he sighed. How could he have doubted.

"We should return," he said, dismounting. Tsura nodded solemnly and did the same, patting the horse's muzzle affectionately. She began walking ahead of Javert, not looking at or speaking to him. Javert was still for a moment, watching her go. From behind, she did not even look like the woman he had known for over a year - more like an illusion of the night cast by the firelight, dancing shadows, and stars. The woman's body was sculpted earth, her dress made of golden flames and her hair the twilit sky.

Suddenly Javert felt a yank on his collar. He whipped around to see the grunting stallion.

"Let go of my collar, if you would," he cried to the horse. It complied with an annoyed grumble and pulled the Inspector towards the camp. He managed to yank himself free, but understood what the horse wanted and continued until he was bathed in a warm glow.

Tsura, he noticed, was already gathering her things and making hasty goodbyes. He walked to the camp just as the band of male gypsies from earlier sidled up to the Lieutenant. As the Inspector tied the horse to the post beside the mare, he overheard their conversation.

"Leaving so soon sweetheart?" asked one.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," answered Tsura. "It is getting very late, you see, and the innkeeper won't be pleased with us. It'll also be an early day tomorrow, and –"

"You shouldn't worry so much about this job," interrupted another, twirling a curl of Tsura's hair on his finger. "You should be dancing instead."

"Yes, dancing!"

"You were a lovely dancer."

"Quite lovely."

""Oh, well, thank you, but, you see," faltered Tsura nervously. She was beginning to babble.

Chapter 60?

(…)

I walked down the street, and entered the tavern, with nary a thought in my mind. It was almost as though my mind couldn't process coherent sentences, or any sentences for that matter. I just… drifted.

The bell chimed far too merrily for my tastes and I shuffled over to the bar. I ordered a glass of Port and glared when the bartender attempted to intrude upon my business. I leaned back in my bar chair and sighed. The figure sitting beside me stirred, and I half-turned my attention to him. _If he's drunk, he might become dangerous. I better keep an eye on him._ He raised himself, and stretched. That's when I got a good look at his face, and though it was dirtier, there was no way I could mistake it.

"Franc?"

He turned to me with raised eyebrows, but he didn't show anything more than very mild surprise. Then he turned back to his scotch. I leaned in to the bar, clutching at my sleeve with the opposite hand. This wasn't what I wanted to be greeted with. I shut my eyes when I heard the chair beside me scrape the floor – the drunken former officer just realized who was talking to him.

"You?" I looked at him, and his mouth just hung open. I would say he looked incredulous, but there was such a lazy aspect to his features it wasn't a very proper description. I glared at him, and he recovered himself, smirking as he brought the glass to his lips yet again.

"So this is where you are? You drown your miseries day and night with alcohol?" He snickered, an adequate reply in his mind, and then looked me dead in the eyes, his own hard and cold. No wonder I didn't notice who it was immediately. He looked terrible. "I thought you were supposed to be in Montpellier." He scoffed.

"I have family over here; I'm visiting."

("So you're in love with him. How revolting. Well, no matter – the man of your affections is so blind to the feelings of everyone around him he'll never even notice.")

Chapter 72?

(…)

I stopped dead in my tracks. My heavy breathing was shown in gentle puffs in front of me – the night was cold, even for spring. The footfalls behind me got louder, but remained at a slow pace. Whoever was walking didn't care about being caught. I whipped around, and was immediately greeted with a hard slap to the face.

"Stupid bitch, did you think you'd get away?"

I looked up, my eyes widening. It was the one-eyed man! _How did he escape prison?_ I thought. As though he could read my mind, he said, his gruff voice laced with confidence, "Your stupid police force doesn't know how to investigate a crime scene properly. They got my friends, but I only had to hide in the shadows, and they didn't even look for me!" I couldn't believe my ears. Surely the force wasn't so full of incompetence. Surely, something must have happened…

"Well, no matter," I said, straightening up. "I'll fix that problem here and now." I put my hand to my blade's hilt, tightening my grip and unsheathing my sword. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and I disguised my flinch as switching into a fighting stance. The great brute grinned wickedly.

"You think you are strong enough to take me on? Remember what happened last time?" He guffawed, baring his yellow teeth. "Your lover had to save you!"

"He's not my lover," I muttered, glaring fiercely. I readjusted my arm, and my sword glinted in the moonlight. The one-eyed man stopped laughing, and raised his eyebrow, before giving me a very serious expression.

"So," he said, his voice darkening, "you're serious." His hands balled into fists, and he cracked his neck. When he looked at me again, his eye gleaming dangerously.

I said nothing. When he lunged, I dodged, my foot scraping loudly against the gravel. He twisted and aimed his hooked claws at my neck, and when I ducked, slashing at his stomach, I didn't expect him to attack me again immediately. When I dodged this time, I stumbled, and he took this chance to grab my throat and slam me to the ground. The air escaped my lungs faster than I could've ever imagined, and I painfully attempted to regain it, but his crushing grip was blocking my airway. He brought his other hand up, and I took my blade and ran it through the palm. He cried out, and leapt off of me, sliding off my sword, which was now coated in a thin layer of his blood. I gasped, sitting upright, clutching at my throat with one hand and trying to hold myself up by digging my sword into the ground with the other. I managed to catch my breath just as he attacked me again, and I cut his arm. When I thought I had another opening, and went to stab him in the gut, he snatched my weapon with his bleeding hand and ripped it out of my grip, throwing it into the river. I tried to catch it, but he took my hair and pulled me back so quickly and with such force I landed on my back again. I gasped for air and a spurt of blood was all that came from my throat. I rolled over just as his foot came slamming down, and I barely missed it. I wheezed for breath and struggled to rise. He turned to me and spinned fully around, leg raised, and kicked my jaw, sending me spinning into the alley. I heard a snap and felt a rush of pain to my shoulder. I coughed and spit out a mouthful of blood, pushing my hand against the ground and straining to get up or at least get off the dirt-covered alley. The burly bastard didn't see, too keen on that, but somehow I managed to tumble out of the way of his hooked sausage-sized fingers. I fell on my backside, but that was lucky, because it was that much easier to rise to my feet. I landed a blow to his stomach, and before giving him a chance to recover, brought my fist upwards, clashing with his jaw and hearing a loud crack as he was sent reeling backwards. I shook my throbbing hand, exhaling slowly. I wiped off perspiration from my forehead, and cracked my wrists and neck, returning into a stance I hope looked intimidating.

From his laugh, I suspected it wasn't.

"Oh, you're a spunky one. You just never learn, you little bitch. Didn't your dad ever tell you not to fight it?"

I flinched. "Never talk about my family, you sick bastard. You know nothing about me."

"Well, why don't we change that?"

I flinched, backtracking. He took a step forward, his dirty grin widening, his chapped lips cracking. I gritted my teeth and raised my clenched fists, bracing myself for another attack. He chuckled, licking the back of his hand, which was covered in his blood. He made no attempt to stop the bleeding, either.

"My, my," he said, his voice low, "you've got a nasty habit of staring. What is it, doggy? Hungry? Want a lick?" He limply offered his grimy hand. I recoiled, my nose scrunching as I grimaced. He shrugged, and licked it again.

"You're sick," I spat. He laughed at me, but said nothing. I grabbed my dagger, hidden in my jacket, and ran at him full force, wielding my weapon in front of me, bent low. I leapt up at the last second and brought my arm down as swiftly and quickly as I could. I stabbed him, but he brought his arm up and elbowed me in the side. I was thrown back from the sudden force and smacked against the brick wall of an abandoned building. He ripped the dagger out of his shoulder and threw it to the side. It skittered about twenty feet away. I cursed, holding my bruised arm, struggling to rise. My knees were bent and I had to use the wall as support. "Damn," I murmured. My muscles ached and my bones burned. Perspiration trickled down my forehead and stung my eyes; I blinked several times so I wouldn't get blinded. I was bleeding, but I didn't know from where.

I had to end this.

He was in worse shape than I was, bleeding everywhere. His chest was cut and both his shoulder and hand were stabbed. I wasn't sure how deeply each gash was, but it must have affected him. The problem was that the man was huge, both in girth and length. And he was constantly knocking the air out of me, giving him an advantage. I panted, not giving into my fear, but only showing my anger. I gave him a steel gaze, hard and cold. I was still leaning against the wall, clutching my arm like it was going to fall off.

"Oh, what? Is that supposed to scare me?" He smirked. "You're pathetic." I stepped forward, stumbled, caught myself. I winced when I brought my arms up again. I never knew that a person could be in so much pain. I don't think that even the barn incident caused me as much pain, although my body was probably in shock. But here… here I felt everything. Every blow.

"So," began the one-eyed man, as though we were in the parlour making light conversation, "where's your savior?" I glared at him, but my brows were knitted in confusion. He sighed. "You dumb bitch, I meant Javert." I bared my teeth, my ears suddenly feeling very hot. "Isn't he going to save his sweet little morsel?"

"You shut up!" I screamed. "Stop insulting him, you disgusting half-witted oaf! I swear to God I'll kill you! You know nothing about Javert, and you never will. Just shut up!"

He seemed momentarily shocked at my outburst. Then a malicious sneer crossed his features.

Chapter 74?

(…)

The shot rang out, echoing for what felt like ages into the black starless night. I staggered back, managing a choked gasp before falling down on my backside. The pain was a dull throbbing and felt almost distant, as though I was separate from it. Javert looked at me in shock; I had been fortunate enough to see the man show emotions on his face in the past, but never anything very extravagant or dramatic, and certainly not in the raw way he expressed his emotions facially now. He turned to my attacker, shock rapidly transforming into unbound rage. I felt weak, but in the strangest way. I was numb and yet my flesh was oversensitive, feeling every breath of wind. It all sensed very strange and frightening to me, and I could feel a lump in my throat, as though I wanted to cry. But I stared blankly to the scene unfolding before me.

Javert was battling the one-eyed man, and winning. It didn't seem terribly difficult for him, as it was for me. He had his blade drawn, and I could see that he had unarmed the burly man quite easily, though I was not sure when, or how. The one-eyed man found the discarded pipe and brought it up just in time to block Javert's attack, but Javert's eyes were burning and determined, and he quickly got the upper hand. His opponent staggered back and tried to ram the pipe against Javert's ribs but missed, narrowly dodging Javert's counterattack. He ran, and threw the pipe at the Inspector's head (it wasn't an effort for him to dodge it) and fled. Javert picked up the pistol that had fallen to the ground, and brought his arm out at full length – dead straight and parallel to the ground, and cocked it. His eyebrow twitched and his eyes narrowed. I exhaled, and counted three seconds before a second shot broke the night. The large body of the one-eyed man fell gracelessly to the ground in a heap.

Javert walked swiftly over too me. Wordlessly, he brought my failing body over to the wall, turning my head up with his gloved hand. I rasped, smiling at him. "Sorry sir. It looks like this is goodbye."

DOES NOT HAPPEN. (75)

Javert looked at me, his face desperate. I gasped, and struggled for breath, managing a smile.

"Lieutenant…" he started. His eyes were wide, searching mine for something I didn't know. Whatever he was looking for, I doubted he would find it.

I inhaled shakily. "Sir, I'm sorry I caused you trouble," I whispered. My voice was strained; it hurt to speak. He could tell; his face contorted into something resembling sadness.

"Don't say such a thing, Lieutenant," he said to me. "You… you did a very good job. I'm proud of you."

I gasped, and shifted against the wall. I gazed at him, my vision going blurry before the tears fell artlessly down my face. "You never said a thing such as that to me before, sir," I said. I smiled again. "Thank you."

Javert did not return it. His eyebrows furrowed and his forehead creased. I reached out my hand, which was covering my abdomen, to him. He took it and put it to his cheek. I cringed at seeing my blood on his face, and tried to pull away, but he would not let me. "Sir, my blood…"

"I don't care." His eyes burned when he opened them, and stared at me meaningfully. "You will not lose your life over this, Lieutenant. You will not lose your life over me."

I chuckled, quite darkly, and mirthlessly. "You think I have power over my own actions when it comes to you, sir? Spare me the jest. I have…" I paused to let pass a fit of violent coughing, which turned into bloody sputtering. "I have no control over myself… not when it comes to you."

He looked at me, shocked by my words. "What on earth—?"

"I am in love with you, Javert, you fool." My smile faded, and I looked at him, almost with reproach. I couldn't control my emotions either, it seemed.

He leaned closer, which startled me. "I don't think I heard you correctly. Repeat, if you would be so kind."

"I love you," I whispered in his ear. I pressed my hand against his cheek, bringing his head to mine. I inhaled his delicious scent, and backed away slowly. "I have loved you for a very long time, Javert, and it would make me feel tremendously better if you would stop calling me Lieutenant. I don't want to die with a title strapped to my breast."

He looked pained, and mildly confused, and terribly stunned, as if this was all too much to handle. "Ts-Tsura," he said gently, carefully, trying it out on his tongue. He shook his head, but I took his hand and squeezed it.

"Thank you, sir." I wiped the blood from my face, smearing my sleeve with red. He winced as the blood flow started once more. Had it even stopped? "I'll be alright, sir. Just a few more minutes and I won't even feel it…"

His eyes widened, and I was surprised to see an expression of despair cross his face. I coughed again, managing to cover my mouth. My hand glistened crimson. I winced, and wiped it on my knee. Javert saw the blood, and inched closer. He gingerly opened my dark jacket, and looked horrified when he saw the white shirt underneath, a red stain the size of both his hands covering my front, growing slowly in size. It was a darker in shade than what I had been coughing up.

"We'll be parting ways soon, sir. Any last-minute condemnations about my lack of efficiency around the office should be said now, I think." I forced the smirk, this time. He took my face with his hands, but not before stripping off his gloves. His skin was warm, and soft. My eyes began to close when he rubbed his thumbs in a circular motion under my temples. I looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

"You foolish girl," he said, his voice thick and choked. "You foolish child. What will I do with you?"

"I think —" I struggled for breath – it sounded wet when I cleared my throat. "I think you'll have to fire me, sir." He chuckled in spite of himself. "I did a terrible job tonight, sir. I don't think… I don't think I'll be able to finish my rounds, either." The sad smile that had only momentarily appeared on Javert's face vanished.

"Don't talk that way, Lieutenant." He didn't notice he used my title again, but I found I didn't care. "Don't say such things. You're going to… You're _not_ dying."

"You don't know that." I paused a while before adding, softly, "I can feel it." I reached out to his face, but found I couldn't reach it. He guided my hand to his cheek, and I brushed my fingertips against his sideburns. "You have… such lovely eyes…" They were brimming over with tears, though. "I remember when I first gazed into those eyes. How angry you were! It's almost funny, thinking back on it now."

"There must be a…" he started desperately, "you can't… you can't die. That's an order. I forbid you to die."

I grinned at him, trying to force back my own tears. "You can't," I said, my voice cracking. "You can't do that to me."

"You can't do this to _me_," countered Javert, almost angrily.

"Listen, my love," I said softly. The rain had long since stopped, and a sparrow had come out of hiding. It began to chirp carefully, unsure if the storm would return. Becoming surer of itself, the chirping grew in volume. I didn't know where it was, but I could hear it, clear as crystal. I smiled at the man I had fallen in love with. "The bird is telling you to let me go. You need to let me go." My tears fell freely, but I kept smiling, feeling ridiculous. _I don't want to go! I want to stay with you! I don't want to die!_

"I can't," he replied. "Not yet." He bowed his head.

"Before I go, sir," I started, ignoring his comment. He looked up at me with his searching eyes. I decided to rephrase my sentence. "Before I go, Javert, I want you to do one thing for me."

I remained silent for a moment.

"Tell me you love me."

He looked shocked. I did not smile again. "I know it will be a lie, but I want to hear this from you. My last request, Javert. I want to hear you say this. It's all I've ever wanted from you."

He appeared to be in physical pain. His face contorted and then he scrunched up his great nose, flaring his nostrils. He bowed his head and sighed, then took my hands resolutely. He would likely tell me that I was being foolish, feverish…

"Oh, Javert, look," I said, and my voice seemed far away. "A star…" It glistened right above us, alone in the sky.

The last thing I felt was those strong, warm hands over my cold ones.

XXX

When Javert raised his head, Tsura was gone. From her eyes had vanished all light. A hint of smile still played on her lips. These he kissed softly, briefly. He whispered something in the corpse's ear, then got up, carrying the girl's body in his arms, her head snugly fitting in the crook of his neck. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks, and he did not blink or brush them away. He just walked down the street. Tsura's body was growing colder, ever still, ever unmoving. He unconsciously brought her closer to him.

He reached the end of the street after a while. He was in no hurry. He went up to the door, knocking with his foot. There was a brief silence, then a pattering of feet, and a click.

The door opened, a child on the other side. She was grinning broadly. "Tsura, you're home! You're back—"

Her smile vanished.

"…Tsura?"


	36. embarrassing unfinished lovescene mature

Tsura looked at Javert tenderly. "You had me worried," she said softly. He rose to a sitting position, leaning in close to her. Even when sitting, realized Tsura, he was still taller than her. He inched closer, pulling his legs under him.

"Sir?" began Tsura, but she was cut off by the Inspector's lips pressing against hers. Her eyes widened in surprise, and quickly she felt her body weaken. Javert brought his arm around her back and pulled her to him, simultaneously moving himself around so he was more comfortable. Tsura grabbed on to his loose shirt and pulled him in after he managed to stop the kiss to take a breath. She moaned into his mouth when his hands roamed over her back and sides. She put both hands at the nape of his neck and undid his ponytail, running her hands through his soft hair. He took the advantage of her parted lips and slipped in tongue with a soft moan, pressing his lips and body more roughly against hers.

Tsura glided her hands to his shoulders, and forced him from her. Her face was deep red, and she was panting. She could barely look at him. Her hands were covered by his on his lap. "We shouldn't… I mean… I'm your subordinate…" Her cheeks flared.

"Did you not like it?"

"I…" Tsura couldn't look at his face, so she did not see what his expression was. "I liked it," she murmured quietly, "a… a lot."

"Then," replied Javert huskily, moving his body over hers, causing her to have to prop herself up by her hands, "let us continue." His eyes were half-open, filled with lust. Just staring into them caused Tsura's body to become uncomfortably warm. He splayed a large hand over the small of her back and pressed her body against his, groaning as their lips made contact. "Javert…" murmured Tsura, hastily complying with his eager tongue. They were like that for what seemed like an eternity, though Tsura did not mind. Then he began kissing and sucking her neck and throat, making pleasant humming sounds as he greedily kissed the sensitive area between neck and shoulder, making Tsura utter a choked sound of surprise, followed by a gentle sigh as she closed her eyes.

Javert pulled away from her, breathing hard. She looked at him, her eyes shimmering. "Sir," she said slowly, trying desperately to regain her senses, "w-why?" It was the only thought that clearly formed in her mind. She wanted to say so much, but she was feeling so overwhelmed she could barely breathe. Her superior looked at her carefully.

"Did you not say you loved me?" he asked, his voice low.

Tsura brought her hand up, caressing his neck. Javert's eyelids became heavy, and he sighed. She felt his sideburns with both hands, and brought her face near his. "I did say that; I have fallen in love with you, Javert." She shook her head. "But you didn't give me a reply."

"Consider this your reply," he answered, claiming the young woman's mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and embraced her tenderly. Tsura's eyelids fluttered then closed. They parted once more, and Tsura gazed into his eyes. She gave him a few soft pecks, pressed her cheek against his, and then buried her face in the crook of his neck. He stroked her hair gently.

They stayed that way for a while, a long while. Finally Tsura pulled away, and they sat next to each other on the bed, shoulders touching. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I guess I was right when I said to myself that you are a man of actions, and not words," she said softly.

"You want words?" replied Javert. He said nothing else for a long while. Then, so very softly that she could barely hear him, he said, "I love you, Tsura." He twisted around, and delicately brought up her chin. He stared at her a few seconds, then kissed her lightly.

Tsura smiled at him when he pulled away. "I love you."


	37. A New Start

Would anyone be opposed to me staring this up again? Rewriting the old chapters and actually finishing the story?


	38. Thank You

I have the best readers ever. You guys are so kind to me. 3

I'm starting right now - to anyone concerned, the already-established chapters will just be rewritten to accomodate my growth in language and syntax. I don't want to have messy chapters following neat ones. I may change a few things aand add some in-between chapters to add more character depth, but hopefully nothing too extreme. I will be removing this in the process of uploading my new story.

Also, to anyone who likes my writing and wants to see more, I made a tumblr for an original story I've started, although it's going much slower.

earthuponacorpse . tumblr . com


	39. IMPORTANT! News and Questions and Such!

_Thank you and welcome to all new followers of my story!_

**Important news**: I will be deleting this story so that I can restart with my revised version. I'll give you all a week, however, after I've uploaded the new one, to go to it, so that those who are following the story and not me will be able to read it.

**Personal news**: I saw the 2012 movie! Other than the choppy, unfavourable way it was edited, I loved it, and cried like a baby. I got a new job and am now part of a Writing/Debate Club, which takes up extroardinary amounts of my time. It also effectively exhausts me. For this reason it will still be a while before I can upload the new version. I apologize to anyone losing patience, but real life does come first, and this all came upon me very suddenly! Thank you to everyone who has been patient and kind to me until this point. I hope I can continue to please.

**Important questions**: I've been revising a lot of the story so far, and today I was struck with an idea; what if the entire thing was third person? Would you all prefer that, or is the first-person!Tsura and third-person!Javert easier to follow? Do you want more or less of the Javert-centric bits, where he is talking to himself and whatnot? Is there anything you guys want me to add, remove, etc? Even though it'll be my decision ultimately, if enough people try to conince me one way or another, my mind can be swayed.

Lastly I must say I'm surprised so many of you are enjoying a Javert/OC type of story. I started this story two years ago, for fun, and didn't ecpect anyone to enjoy it!

Please send feedback! I appreciate each and every one of you! Thank you!


	40. Something That Needs to be Addressed

So a quick message, about something that has come up. This happened last time, when I was talking about ending the fic, because I was suffering from severe depression. (As a side note, thank you to everyone who gave me very kind and wonderful reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying my work and I'm glad you're staying to read my new version. Sorry to make you wait.)

"Look I like your story it's really good but you need to decide if your going  
to write or not because this back and forth is making me lose interest. Also  
in sure a lot of people want to know the rest of the story so make a final  
decision already."

Hahaha okay dude. I honestly don't really care if you lose interest? I started this fanfiction two years ago on a whim, and I'm rewriting it because I want to better my writing skills. I'm not being paid for this, you know. I do have a life, and responsibilities. I made my "final decision" and I'm taking my time rewriting so that the new version is quality. If you're this impatient, then you can move on. I'm not writing this for you. Pretty much everyone else who has messaged me has been understanding and kind. They know that I have a life and that I'm in the in-between with a lot of things.

Don't misunderstand me rewriting this as trying to get more readers or wanting to make you happier or anything like that. This writing was always very selfish. I did it to further my ability as a writer.

I don't owe you anything. I could abandon it right now if I wanted to. I give updates because I want my readers to know it's still on my mind, I'm still working on it. If it bothers you so much, unfollow the story? I could be completely inconsiderate if you'd rather.

This is not some grand project. I have an actual book I'm trying to write. I have a job. I have several drawing projects on the go. I have a social life. I'm sure you do as well.

PS for those interested, I'm currently on Chapter 4 of my rewrite. Hopefully that doesn't piss anyone off.


End file.
